


Short Works Collection

by imperator_titus



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Universe - Emperor Hux, Alternative Universe - Modern, Alternative Universe - Monsters, Alternative Universe - Other, Cadet Hux, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Porn Abound, Gen, M/M, Multi, Original Characters - Freeform, Other, Short Fics, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-05-27 00:18:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 62
Words: 145,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15012566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperator_titus/pseuds/imperator_titus
Summary: A collection of drabbles, short stories, and honoured requests.





	1. “Wait a minute, you’re jealous!” [Hux/Ani]

**Author's Note:**

> Some things have been revised and removed; if you're looking for something you thought was here, I have a copy somewhere, probably!  
> If something is marked as 'unrevised' then it hasn't been updated to reflect some changes made to the 'Death by a Thousand Cuts canon' concerning my OCs and is also bound to have a ton of mistakes.  
> Individual chapters should have info, especially regarding whether or not a given chapter is SFW or NSFW, and might contain warnings. If you think I missed a tag/warning, please let me know in the comments, contacting me on my [Tumblr blog](https://imperator-titus.tumblr.com/), or my [Pillowfort.io.](https://www.pillowfort.io/Imperator-Titus) Thanks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SFW, Unrevised

General-Doctor Aneirin Reader got along with most people; she was innocuously kind, quiet, and did her work well, so there wasn’t much to argue about. She got along particularly well with Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka; he was bright and also quiet, modest and a rare form of kind on the Finalizer. Their friendship began when Reader found Mitaka on the receiving end of Kylo Ren’s tantrum and she of course rushed in to tell the Sith off. She was like a guardian angel as she helped him get put back together and at dinner he sat down with her when he saw that she looked particularly sullen. A few light jokes later at the Sith Commander’s expense and it was like they’d been friends since childhood.

The two always ate meals together if their break coincided and sometimes they took what could only be called strolls around the star destroyer. He tried teaching her chess, which he was surprised to see she was awful at, and he was her partner for her morning yoga and tea when he could spare the time. The lieutenant had been sent on an away mission once and used what little credits he had to purchase her a plant which sat in her office under the UV lights. This of course required compensation, so the next time she went away she’d purchased him his own plant which sat in his tiny quarters. The back and forth eventually got out of hand and they started finding other officers to take some of the easier to take care of plants off their hands. Captain Phasma was particularly fond of succulents.

This closeness didn’t escape the watchful eye of General Hux, who made it a point to know who and when his officers interacted with each other. At first he’d thought it the simple inane relationship of two people who were too soft and nice to let a connection die. He’d decided the best course of action was to berate the lieutenant on any little detail out of place or any mistake no matter how small, but this drove the man further to his senior officer friend’s side so that she could help alleviate his stress and anxiety. Hux, for reasons inexplicable or fathomable by any human being, had always been into guiding an aerobics class when he had the time. So when the little yoga sessions between the friends turned into a class that they co-ran, Hux did what any reasonable man would do; he scheduled his aerobics for the same time and it was mandatory. Reader of course ignored the ‘mandatory’ and continued to go to the same exercise room at the same time as she’d been doing, even if no one came to join her. It was the first time he’d actually felt some genuine remorse and identified an action as petty.

He’d thought he’d gotten over it until he saw the tall mousy lieutenant lean down and give the doctor a hug. It didn’t occur to Hux that it wasn’t really his business because to him it was; officers don’t hug and especially not in the hallways. It also went unnoticed, until too late, that the embrace was hardly romantic in nature. He stomped up to the pair, spit practically shooting from his mouth as he gave the lieutenant a dressing-down and dismissal. When he turned to her to give her some calculated stern words about fraternizing with inferior officers, the words died on his tongue when he saw the tell-tale signs of crying on her face. His perfect memory recalled her signature on the loss of a pilot due to wounds being unable to heal despite every effort. The hug had been one of comfort, something Hux never had and therefore had never considered a possibility. His mouth opened to apologize, which would be difficult for him, but she managed to beat him to the punch. “Why are you such a jerk?”

Hux was stunned; he knew people perceived him negatively but he was a General and couldn’t coddle emotions and personalities on a starship. Subordinates were required to do exactly as ordered in a quick and timely fashion, not worry about what their superior thought of them beyond their professional ability to complete tasks and work under pressure. That is where the two differed; she appealed to hearts while he ruled with iron authority. It only made sense that she would see him as unduly cruel and harsh. “Why did you not come to me? I’m your superior officer, I am the one who handles your complaints, not some _lieutenant_.” The title was an insult despite the fact that Hux thought Mitaka was quite the promising officer, if he could manage to have more of a spine. His friendship with the second-youngest General was not something Hux considered helpful in that regard but he had to admit to finally being a little mistaken.

She looked at him with shock, mouth slightly falling open and dark eyebrows coming together as blue eyes stared at him. With a few blinks her lips curled in an amused smile, a huff coming from her nose. “Wait a minute, you’re jealous!”

“I am no such thing. What would there be for me to be jealous about?” He’s affronted; there is nothing that Lieutenant has that he could want. Except maybe having the time to have a meal or two with her, evening tea where he could extol his many thoughts on the insufferable Sith haunting his days, or that sense of familiarity and trust that would allow him the privilege of… giving a hug. “I suggest you wipe that smirk off your face and return to the med-bay where you’re supposed to be.”

Her expression died back down to a natural slightly-sad flatness of the mouth and inability to look up with confidence. She acknowledged his words and turned to leave, but stopped in her tracks when he spoke up again. “You’re a magnificent Doctor, there was nothing anyone could’ve done. You can’t save everyone.”

His back was turned to go back to his post on the bridge, saving him the discomfort of seeing her smiling face. Despite being busy with everything that came with being a General and the commanding officer of a ship as large as the Finalizer, the small exchange replayed on a loop in the back of his mind. He’d gotten a notification on his data pad that his quarters had been entered; a security override by the chief medical officer. The time she spent in the room wasn’t enough to be searching for something and she wasn’t lying in wait, so he was curious as to why she’d gone there in the first place. She couldn’t have been looking for him because she knew he was still on shift, their duty times almost always off by 2 standard hours. Stepping into the room he immediately saw the cause of her visit, because it left a glaring offense to the neat and orderly space he kept. A plant and a piece of paper with her precise letters, indicative of someone who hadn’t grown up with Basic as a first language. The thing was… strange looking, almost as if it were an animal trapped by the dark brown soil.

‘You two are very alike.’

On the back of the note was the file number for a guide on how to take care of it. It was carnivorous and snapped, but most importantly its ‘head’ was red and its stems black. She had quite the sense of humor, he thought. Hux did something he hadn’t done in a long time- smile.


	2. A Promise [Cadet Hux/Aneirin]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SFW, Unrevised

They’d been enjoying each other’s company those four years; tiny moments in time that felt like their whole lives. Fingertips brushing, knees bumping, backs being gently touched, it was all electric and calming at the same time. It’d been secret and exciting, comforting and warm. To the outside world they were no more than fellow students, but she knew that there was something special between them. It was their safeguard against the darkness, to save them from being swallowed up in the mire of military life. They were in the woods, feeling alone enough to let their hands clasp together as they walked.

“We can’t keep this up forever.” Hux whispers and she nods, knowing what he means. They’ll graduate soon, go on separate assignments, and probably never see each other again. He squeezes her hand tight, the gesture saying something he probably would have a hard time saying. She’d learned that not everything was verbal with him, it was just in his nature. Sometimes it was frustrating, but most of the time it was cute; it let them communicate from a distance, professionally written messages were full of secret “I miss you” and “you look nice today.”

“There’s always subspace messages.” He sighed through his nose, a sign of his disappointment in something. Messages over the years would be no replacement for these moments. She knew he’d miss her touch and her kindness; it was something he needed as much as air or water. “I’m sure you’ll meet someone better. Prettier. Smarter. You’ll be happier when you’re commanding your own starship.”

Hux stopped, keeping her from moving with their joined hands. A gentle smile on her face faded when she saw how much emotion he was finally showing; sadness, pain. She stepped closer, cupping his cheek in her hand, giving him the softest look. “Everything will be alright Armitage. We’ll always have this.”

Guiding him down and lifting herself onto her toes, she planted a strong but loving kiss on his supple lips, taking the time to memorize how they felt. Long white fingers snaked into her hair, thumb brushing her cheekbone. She could smell his aftershave and the smoke of his cigarettes clinging to his clothes and skin. She never wanted to kiss another pair of lips. This one kiss could last her a lifetime. When he pulled back, his green eyes were the most beautiful she’d ever seen and a rare smile, even if it was tinged with sadness, highlighted his face. “I’ll get you back, don’t worry.”


	3. Power of the Throne [Hux/Doctor/Ren, Emperor Hux]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [NSFW, Unrevised, AU: Emperor Hux, Hux/Aneirin/Ren] Request fill for 'throne fucking' featuring Emperor Hux. [Originally posted July 1, 2018]

Being Emperor is stressful. That’s what she tells herself when his voice gets sharp at her. Doctor Aneirin Reader practically grew up with the man, had been the only one he’d actually trusted with treating him. Emperor Hux was a prickly character who hated being touched and hated disorder just as much, which was a major point of his complaints. Her ‘lack of order’ had been brought up so many times that she just gave him a tired blank look, the words ‘I apologize, Emperor Hux’ an automatic response. She was pretty sure he brought it up just so he could argue with her, just to talk. He’d done that as a General, too. So it came as no surprise that when she was summoned to his audience chamber that the state of her personal items was the subject. What did surprise her was that the room was empty, save for his personal guard Kylo Ren, who seemed preoccupied with deciding if he wanted to change anything on his lightsaber. 

“Doctor, I hate having this discussion with you so many times.” She’d been staring at the floating pieces of the saber with some mild interest instead of paying attention to him, which caused irritation to rise in his voice. “Doctor, I’m speaking to you.”

“Yeah, yeah, my room’s a mess, got it, Dad.” She waves dismissively towards him and turns to leave. “Good talk, I look forward to the next time you call me down here.” 

“Excuse me? Get back here this instant!” She sighs, stops, turns around and walks forward to the base of the throne’s dais. “I called you here for a reason.” 

"How may I serve, Sir?” He leaned back from where he’d almost gotten up to rush after her. Ren turned his head towards them in curiosity. 

“Take off your clothes.” He said it with such a straight face that she thought she might have misheard. She looked to Ren as if to say “is he serious?” but the man looked just as confused as her. “Now, Doctor. That’s an order.” 

“Yes, Sir.” She’d seen both of them without clothes on many occasions but they’d never seen her. Time to even the score, she thought to herself as she let her lab coat drop to the floor, the rest of her clothing following suit one by one until she was bare. The room was cold, her feet chilling on marble and her hands rubbing at her arms to put some heat back into them. The emperor’s mouth quirked in amusement. 

“Ren, why don’t you heat our dear doctor up a little?” With a huff the Black Guard stood up and pulled off the cape draped over his shoulders, presumably to wrap her in it. Hux clicked his tongue. “Not like that. With your hands. Gloves on. Where I can see.” 

The two looked at each other in confusion but she stood still as the looming figure stalked behind her. His fingers, long and warm under the supple black leather, untangled her arms so that a hand could could cup one of her breasts, brushing over a nipple hardened by the chill. She shuddered and a whine case from the back of her throat; unquenchable pleasure overshadowed the embarrassment of the situation. Just a few feet away a pair of green eyes was looking down on the black shadow wandering over her pale skin. She turned her attention to him instead of the ground and watched him squirm. He hadn’t been expecting how her gaze could send a jolt straight to his cock. He tried to maintain an even tone but what came out was hot and lusty. “Get her ready for me, Ren.”

Sure enough she felt those long fingers dipped down to between her legs, one thick finger parting her lower lips so it could rub her clit. In her ear she heard her torturer’s breath get labored as her own became strained and broken with moans. Leather and all it slipped into her, eliciting a loud whine which had Hux gasping quietly. Eventually he couldn’t take it anymore. “Come please your emperor, make up for all the headaches you cause me.” 

Ren released his hold on her so that she could climb the dais on shaky legs. Up close it was much more obvious that he was straining against his clothing and she knew that he wanted to be free of it. With deft fingers she unbuttoned his trousers and relieved him of his pressing problem. He practically sighed in relief. Without prompting she gripped the base and took the head into her mouth. A hand sat on the back of her head as she bobbed and she expected it to force her down, but the touch was hesitant. From her place between his legs she could hear his breathing become ragged until fingers gripped her hair, pulling her away. From the look on his face he’d come too close to spilling himself down her throat. “Do you wish me to ride you, Sir?”

“Oh, Maker, please.” The words tumbled out of his mouth without regard to how desperate he sounded, breaking the character of the heart-of-stone Emperor. He clears his throat and fixes his face as best as he can back to his commanding mask. “I think my loyal guard has earned the pleasure of watching you obscenely bounce on my cock.” 

He would’ve liked to face her while they shared their first intimate moment but he had to exert his dominance on the two, didn’t he? So when she climbed onto the throne and sat on his lap, facing the stock-still Sith as she lowered herself on his cock, he had to do his best to keep a straight expression. But then she started making those noises, felt so good, and even just her backside was enchanting. Then the thought of how he had the Sith watching and the woman he admired doing what he wanted invaded his mind. Character gone, he pulled her back to press against his chest, his mouth by her ear. “What do you want, my precious Doctor?” 

“You. I’ve always wanted you.” Her voice was so honest he actually believed it. He knew that in the back of his mind that he would’ve had to order her at blasterpoint to do something she really didn’t want to do. He looked over her shoulder at Ren whose face was flushed and he’d been worrying at one of those plush lips, black outfit hiding his erection. 

“Do you want him too? Do you think he wants you? What do you think, Ren?” It thriller him that the younger man looked away briefly in embarrassment. 

“I do want her.” Hearing that made her clench around the emperor’s cock and he groaned against her neck. 

“Then you can have her.” Ren knew what he was silently being ordered to do so he approached the throne, shedding his clothes as he did so. Hux’s hand went to the doctor’s clit and rubbed it in furious circles, pumping her body up and down on him until he grunted her name as he filled her with hot thick cum. Still touching her, he pushed her off of him so that the Sith could lift up her hips to slide her dripping cunt over his own cock. She moaned at the being stretched by the slightly larger shape to accommodate and Hux would’ve been jealous and insecure if her pleasure didn’t excite him so much. As Ren pounded away, the other gave her attention with both hands and his mouth nibbled sensitive skin, whispering dirty things in her ear. 

When she screamed her pleasure to the empty audience chamber it drove Kylo to his peak, filling her a second time and almost dropping her in the Emperor’s lap to brace himself on the arms of the throne. 

“Next time can we do this somewhere more comfortable, like a bed?” The two men laughed and helped the doctor get off from her precarious position. 

“Only if you organize your office.” 


	4. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betrayed but by whose hand? SFW, Unrevised, Characters: Hux, Aneirin, Ren

_Don’t trust them._

It was the voice in the back of her head talking again. Aneirin didn’t recognize it, but she trusted it for some inexplicable reason. So she didn’t trust them, her two co-commanders, General Armitage Hux and Commander Kylo Ren. Where once she would trust them with her life, would help them in any way, she now kept a safe distance. Not like being outside of arm’s reach meant anything when one wasn’t beyond a little poison and the other didn’t have to touch a person to throw them across the room.

_They’d kill you in a heartbeat._

That made sense; Ren would kill almost anyone in a heartbeat and she knew the general at the very least had people killed for simply being in his way. There was no way she was in his way, they had completely different paths, and no one was going to place her in front of him in the chain of command. She was mild-mannered until it was absolutely necessary to be stern, she was their complete opposite maybe that was reason enough to want her dead. So the doctor was always looking over her shoulder, had started carrying a blaster like she was supposed to from the beginning.

Then came the nightmares. She’d wake up to the feeling of large strong hands crushing her throat, the last image of her mind either that grim mask or Hux’s remorseless green eyes dark with the pleasure of taking away her life by his own hands. Sometimes she’d even see the bruises on her neck, making her suspicious that the knight had secreted into her room and given her a taste of his power only to erase the memory. Her body would be sore and she always felt exhausted like she hadn’t slept at all last night. It made her nerves short and little sounds she normally accepted as white noise became suspicious. The staff meeting was the worst because she always sat near the General at the head of the table and Ren finally started being compliant about coming to her before going out on his missions so she had to keep it together long enough to perform her duties. The man kept giving her… looks and it made her nervous, thinking he was suspicious of her. In reality, he was worried; everyone could tell she looked like a mess, but she was keeping up with her duties so no one could really complain.

She started losing chunks of time after a week; one minute she’d be in the canteen and the next she was in her quarters, holding a knife like her life depended on it. She checked the logs and only she had been in her room, but it wasn’t beyond Hux’s or many people’s capabilities to erase those logs. Once she lost a whole day, finding herself standing in Hux’s office, a shattered data pad at her feet and the general looking at her with a concerned look on his face. All she could do was take a step back and when he came around the desk, words she didn’t hear coming from his mouth, she fled to the security of her office all the way across the ship. Her heart pounding she fell to the floor, tears streaming down her face. Then she lost time again, coming to in her quarters feeling as if she’d been grabbed roughly by a hundred hands and she heard pounding on her door, Hux’s voice shouting at her.

In her office she’d been cornered by Kylo Ren, helmet on, hands outstretched to her. She had a scalpel in her hand, the hand stung, and there was blood all over it. There was a tightness around her wrists, something invisible keeping her in place but it didn’t stop her heart beating at hyperspace speeds. Her eyes were wide as they stared at him, she felt hot tears well up into her eyes. “Get out,” she growled with as much authority as she could muster while shaking. Surprisingly, the knight took a step back, and when he reached up to remove his helmet she felt the bonds fall away. With all her might she lunged at the shadowy monster before her, the uncovered face a mass of black writhing vipers with red gleaming eyes, and brought the scalpel blade into the left shoulder. Two strong hands like steel vices took hold of her arms and she was compelled to look into that terrifying visage. Its lips moved with the words ‘let me help you’ but a voice like hot lead being poured in her ears screeched “you will pay for your sins.” Her struggling and screaming finally served to free her from the vile animal’s grasp and it stared at her until it retreated.

It was as if she wasn’t really in her body, just a ghostly passenger tied to the possessed vessel of her body as it made its way to the bridge. She watched as the blaster was unclipped from her belt and leveled at the copper-haired General. In horror, screaming at herself to stop, she watched as she pulled the trigger but not before Lieutenant Mitaka had rushed up to her and began to pull her down to the ground. The shot landed in his thigh from the look of it and she heard him cry out in pain, making her heart clench in her chest. Like being ripped through the fabric of space she found herself in her body once again, staring up into the confused face of the lieutenant and her heart threatening to break the bones of her chest. “I didn’t- I didn’t want to! Believe me! Please-“ Her chest squeezed and she felt her jaw start to hurt.

When she woke up she was in the secured room of the med-bay, cuffed to the four corners of the bed she lied in, a drip in her arm. Instinctively she jerked against the restraints, her heart rate soaring and she didn’t need the monitor beeping to know it was erratic. Her assistant came in with one of the nurses, a strange look on their faces as they made to sedate her. She looked at them with pleading eyes, guilt and concern soaking her words. “Please, is he alright? Is Armitage alright?”

“The General will live.” The world melted away. No more nightmares, no more losing time unexpectedly, just sedation. She could handle it as long as she knew why it happened. When she woke, her vision was blurry but she could still tell that there were two tall figures standing over her bed. Orange and black, looming like two massive ravens waiting to pluck out her eyes. She jerked away in panic.

“Stay calm, Doctor.” The dark one, Ren, spoke without his helmet distorting his uncharacteristically placating deep voice. The other one scoffed angrily, she flinched at his raised voice.

“She should be begging for her life after what she did, Ren! I can’t believe you’re soft enough to-“

“There is more going on here than meets the eye, Hux.” She could hardly believe that the Sith was coming to her defense, even the General seemed shocked.

“I would say so! A general, my chief of medicine, tried to shoot me in the back on my own damn bridge! That definitely points towards a conspiracy.” She looked into his green eyes and saw only hurt and rage.

“She’s been acting erratically and now- Now I can finally read her like an open book. Excuse me, Doctor.” His hand reached out and she tried to get away but she couldn’t. She cried out in fear but his gloved hand still came to rest gently on her disheveled head. The feeling of the Force boring into the little chink of her mind’s armor was a hot spike of pain and she whimpered pathetically, another gloved hand resting on her shoulder. Layers of her memory peeled away, but it was full of holes like an onion beset by worms; pieces missing, blurred edges. The things that weren’t there were melted away by Ren’s will ripping them off like bandages: faces and voices distorted, creatures in the dark, the walls and floors moving or falling away. It stung to replay the events in her office that earned him a wound; no wonder she’d lunged at him, she thought him literally a monster. He never found what he was looking for, but he could tell when he started and that was good enough for now. Gently his power receded and he opened his eyes and ears to the present, jarred by how the Doctor was crying and begging like he’d tortured her and how the General was snarling insults at her. The two of them had a history, one the knight knew was built on trust and some feelings of the heart that Hux was still capable of, so he knew that this whole ordeal was a blow bigger than normal betrayal. He reached out his power once more to help her fall asleep and softly he wiped away the tears on her cheek before pulling away.

“I should just execute her here, the lying-“ the venomous words were cut off by Kylo raising his hand to the general.

“The betrayal stings, Hux, but there is more going on here than meets the eye. I suggest you just keep an eye out for strange behavior while I figure this out.” He was doing his best to be civil with the man; he quite liked Aneirin, she reminded him of the kind women he’d grown up around, especially the good parts of his mother. The knight wasn’t about to have her life thrown away without fighting to prove that this was out of her control.

“Oh, the great Kylo Ren using his big brain and the stupid Force to investigate an obvious case of-“ he was cut off by a brief tightness on his throat. Then, in clipped words, the memories recovered from their co-commander were recounted. “You’ve never been able to influence her mind, Ren, how do you not know that she can finally turn that around on you?”

“If she can, General, then both of us should be worried about how that has come to be. For now, I have a trail of breadcrumbs to find. See to it that you stay alive.” He squeezes past the slight figure and out into the ship. This left Hux to stare down in disgust at the women he’d once thought of as a friend, a confidant. He limped to the side of the bed, gripping the railing both in anger and to steady himself. His voice was scathing and sharp, but there was hurt in his eyes. “You better hope he’s right and not as dumb as I think he is. How could you?”

She didn’t respond, of course, thanks to Ren’s stupid magic tricks. The redhead growled in frustration and limped away, joined by Lieutenant Mitaka in the med-bay foyer. The young man had proven himself in a tense situation and Hux had written him a commendation. It didn’t escape his attention that in the report, Mitaka very confidently heard General Reader say she ‘didn’t want to’ before her heart attack set in. The medical report surmised that, as a perfectly healthy woman of 34, the cardiac event had been triggered by extreme terror. These two things in conjunction, now along with Ren’s little foray into her mind, were the only things casting serious doubt on this being a matter of simple brazen assassination. The General still kept himself on edge, waiting for any new attempt on his life. None came. Every day he went down to the med-bay and stood over her, somehow she was always sedated when he came by; her assistant said she’d been very distraught and they didn’t want to stress her system. In the silence of the room he’d hurled verbal abuse at her sleeping form until he tired himself out, eventually collapsing into a chair and cradling his head in his hands. Once she’d woken up and he just stared at her while she asked if he was alright; when he didn’t respond she cried and it actually hurt to watch.

Ren was hard at work trying to figure out this mystery; he’d sat with Phasma for hours trying to track the doctor’s movements on the ship since the day he’d noticed the shift in her memories. Aneirin had proved a tough nut to crack when it came to Sith mind tricks; she’d previously been like a smooth clear crystal, offering no crevice to infiltrate and holding nothing to be seen. It disturbed him how easily he had dug into her mind in the med-bay, the feeling of primal terror that didn’t seem directed at him. Something else was at play here and the immediate explanation wasn’t one he was willing to accept easily. Just so he didn’t have to be alone in his realization he gathered up all of his evidence of tampering and marched into Hux’s office. The man didn’t have time to finish arguing before he dumped a pile of data pads on the black desk. With each one he watched, with each of Ren’s notations explaining how Aneirin had perceived those events. 

There it was, in grainy black and white: her walking into the audience chamber. There had been no record of her being summoned there, her entrance had been erased from the logs, but all that was left was this security footage. It would happen again and again, she would have no recollection, and the more often it happened the worse her behavior became. There was only one explanation: Supreme Leader Snoke had found a way to break through that crystal ball of her mind and used her like a puppet. He’d made her pull that trigger. Either the Sith Master had no more use for her, figuring she’d never have another chance to attempt it again or she’d forced him out of her mind. None of these prospects were particularly appealing but at least they had an answer. Hux looked up into Ren’s face that was barely containing anger with a clenched jaw. “He has to go.”

“Really, Ren? You’re actually suggesting to me that we kill the Supreme Leader? I didn’t realize you cared about me so much.” He shuffled the data pads back into a neat stack.

“Nothing about what he did was right. Not her. And… she cares about you, so I guess I have to care about you too.” Kylo didn’t like admitting that but it didn’t do for Hux to be suspicious of his motives.

“We at least agree on one thing.” He doesn’t like doing it in front of other people but he pulls a cigarette from the silver case in his greatcoat and lights it. A moment of heavy silence hangs between them. Gloved fingers rub at the headache forming in his temples and he sighs. “It really wasn’t her fault.” 

“Of course it wasn’t. For whatever reason, she loves you, she wouldn’t have assassinated you. I know you saw how erratic she was, staring at us like we were going to kill her just as easily as we kill rebels.” Ren rubbed at a cramp forming in his hand. “She thought I was a demon or something, on several occasions she thought you were ordering her future execution with her still in the room. Snoke was pouring poison in her ear the whole time. He must really be pissed about Starkiller for him to execute you with the Medical Chief.” 

“She doesn’t love me, you’re mistaken, don’t try confusing me. And you are a demon, so she got one of those things correct.” Hux took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing it out through his nose in a tight stream. “She’s still reacting poorly, for all we know he still is pouring poison in her ear. Every time she’s awake when I go down there she cries.” 

“And it breaks your blackened heart, I know. Let me take care of this.” He hated the way the redhead scoffed at that statement. “What’s so funny, Limpy?” 

“That you think you can defeat the Supreme Leader so easily.” 

“I didn’t say it would be easy. Not like you can do it.” The look on the general’s face was like a balm on an incessant itch. “Focus on staying alive.” 

So when the time came, when Ren stood with Rey in the throne room of the Supremacy, it was an easy decision to activate Luke’s lightsaber. It was satisfying. When Hux saw the carnage left behind by the fight he felt a great weight lift from his entire body. They visited her together and she still seemed a little fearful, but she knew what their presence meant. The general undid her restraints himself and sat by her side for a minute while Ren’s wounds were seen to. Upon Ren’s return he found the two of them lying in bed together, fast asleep. 


	5. Off on the Wrong Hoof [Modern AU] [Hux/Aneirin]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: General  
> Warnings: None  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC)  
> Pairing: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character(s)  
> Tags: AU: Modern, Fluff, Horses  
> Words: 2104  
> Published: 2018-05-17, Revised: 2019-04-22  
> Summary: Armitage Hux doesn't appreciate a certain new boarder at his stables, but his tune changes when he finds a lone horse on the trail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.

The Pritchard family had owned Chamomile, a bay Clydesdale with a white face, to do work around their farm and he had been a companion for quite a few years. When Aneirin’s parents died, she sold the farm that she couldn’t keep up with but couldn’t bear to part with Chamomile. The horse was her last real family and he was the sweetest gentle giant. Thankfully there was enough money left over from the estate sale and she’d already lived below her means enough to stable the horse, but the only reasonable place was apparently a go-to spot for the social elite. They gave her looks as she brought in her horse and she was pretty sure they scoffed when they saw her ride bareback, probably called her barbaric in French behind her back. She didn’t care, she was taking care of her friend and the rides on the trails were a nice time to relax, clear her thoughts.

One of the people she’d caught looking at her was a red-headed gentleman with short-cropped straight hair gelled with a precise part on the left side, tall and slender, pale, and when she’d gotten a closer look at him she noticed he had the most striking green eyes. His horse, a bay Arabian by the looks of it, was kept next to hers and so she ran into him quite a few times. Aneirin had tried introducing herself once only for him to give her an annoyed look before going about his business. From the nameplate, she could see his horse was named Millicent and when the man wasn’t around she caught their horses nuzzling each other, so she got to be friendly with the stubborn mare.

One day she came for a ride when she heard a raised voice in the barn. Rushing in she saw the redhead berating Chamomile in a harsh and shrill tone and blood surged to her face as she ran up to him. She could take the stares but no one was going to talk down to her friend. “Hey! Leave him alone!”

“Your stupid draft was fraternizing with my Millicent and I will not stand for it! The very idea!” From his accent she could tell he was from England, he probably thought her Southern accent was even more insulting than other Americans. That didn’t matter, being some upper-crust Englishman didn’t excuse him from being verbally abusive to an animal.

“They’re horses, they sit next to each other for most of the day, of course they’re friends! And he’s not a stupid draft, he’s Chamomile and he’s a sweetheart.” The man scoffed and rolled his eyes, the action practically had steam coming out of her ears. How can someone be so obviously rude and dismissive?

“I won’t have her tainted by your blockheaded workhorse!” The smack of flesh on flesh rang out in the barn and had several horses whinnying in surprise, especially the two nearby. His gloved hand came up to his reddening cheek gingerly, his eyes wide in shock. They were pretty in the lights but she didn’t want to think about that. The sting in her hand was the only indication in her mind that she’d actually smacked him, the memory of how it looked already erased from her mind.

“You can call me whatever you want but you won’t insult my friend, do you understand?” She didn’t give him room to respond, just went to the door of Chamomile’s stall to unlock it, hoisted herself onto his back, and trotted him out for the ride she’d intended. Aneirin made it longer than normal, having to get out her frustration with that man, and stopped to let her baby drink from a clean running brook. When she got back the poor horse was still restless so for a rare treat, she let him run to his heart’s content in the open field. At some point, she noticed the redhead atop his horse but she pushed him from her mind; either he realized he’d been a fool or he’d make some stink that she’d have to deal with. At worst it was assault. What she hadn’t noticed was the man staring at her very intently as she bounced up and down on Chamomile’s strong naked back.

In the barn, she brushed him down and fed him treats and kind words. She’d been too busy giving him attention to notice another horse enter the barn and the sound of boots landing on the ground. She heard the gentle sound of a horse being brushed and a man’s voice speaking in soothing tones. That man’s voice. Trying to pretend he wasn’t there, she brought Chamomile back into his stall. “I apologize for my earlier behaviour, Miss Pritchard.”

“I accept your apology. I shouldn’t have smacked you, I was angry.” Aneirin was honestly surprised that he apologized, especially on the same day. Maybe a smack was what he needed, but that didn’t make it right. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name, you didn’t give it before.”

“Hux. Armitage Hux.” He extended his hand, bare and wiped clean after being in a leather glove for who knows how long. She shook it firmly; he seemed surprised.

“Bond, James Bond,” she said, imitating the famous character. His strawberry blond eyebrows knitted together.

“Excuse me?” She realized her faux pas and immediately became apologetic.

“Sorry, I wasn’t making fun of your accent, I promise. Just the way you introduced yourself, well…” she chuckled nervously and looked briefly at the ground in shyness. “Your accent is quite charming, actually, I wouldn’t make fun of it. People make enough fun of mine for me to know that it’s not a great feeling to be on the receiving end.”

“Ah, I can see how you’d think that. I don’t normally give my first name, I don’t really prefer it.”

“Well Armitage is a mouthful, but so is Aneirin. Look at that, we both have complicated and unique A names.”

His heart beat a little faster at her meekness after the previous shows of force proved she was no doormat. At least to the outside world, she was both kind and strong. It’s also no small feat for someone so small to hop up onto a 17 hand horse without a stirrup or stool. “Your accent is charming as well, American Southern, am I right? But not as deep. Appalachia?”

She offered him an impressed look. “You know your regional dialects, huh?”

“I guess you could call me observant. It can be an annoying habit.” His laugh was light but with a slight base tone, almost lacking confidence as if he didn’t do it often. Judging by the constant sour look on his face and the way he shouted at Chamomile for being a horse, he probably didn’t.

“I have my share of those.”

“Your horse, Chamomile, is actually quite lovely. His stature seems to suit you.”

“Thanks, he’s an old friend. Yours looks like the kind of horse I’d expect you to ride. Sleek, like a foreign car.”

“They are a breed favoured by, uh…”

“The upper crust?”

“I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“You seemed reluctant to say it, so I won’t take offence where none was meant.”

They parted on decent terms. At least someone would politely nod to her on the field now, Aneirin thought to herself on the way home. On one occasion he rode up beside her as she was exiting the stables and followed her a ways. She wasn’t quite sure what he wanted, his conversation was only polite and seemed to have no real purpose other than to hear her speak. It didn’t even register that Armitage could be interested in her, that their small interactions had sparked a curiosity. She’d learned that he was a lawyer in the city and that he’d owned Millicent for only 5 years, but he had a favoured horse from his father’s stables named Phasma. The mare had been used for his dressage; he hated the practice but loved the horse. He called it ‘a great show of command and obedience but incredibly dull and useless.’ She’d laughed and he blushed.

She’d come one day to ride and had expected him to be there, as usual, waiting for her. Well, he waited for her but insisted he’d just gotten there; she once stood for 15 minutes to see when he would finally leave with Millicent but he very obviously was wasting time until she showed up. Today he wasn’t there and Millicent was gone. And so was Chamomile. In a panic, Aneirin looked through all the other stalls to see if he’d somehow been moved by the stable staff but to no avail. She didn’t see him wandering the field and the blonde had no clue what to do. Going back to his stall, she sat down on a stool and hung her head in her hands to cry. Her worst thought was that someone had deliberately let him out in the hopes that he would run away.

It had been a half hour before she heard hoofbeats entering the barn and when she looked up what she saw had her jump up from her seat. With tears still in her eyes she could still recognize the huge figure that was Chamomile and alongside him rode Armitage on Millicent. Armitage had apparently found a rope and carefully laced it around the Clydesdale’s head as a makeshift bridle. She wrapped her arms around the horse’s thick neck and stroked his mane, sobbing out words of relief. “When I came in today he was gone and I assumed you were out already. I decided to go along the trails and I found him alone, drinking from a stream. Thinking you’d been thrown I, of course, panicked trying to find you and took Chamomile with me. Some others heard me yelling and informed me they’d seen you here. Now that I think of it, his door was left open, I should’ve known something was amiss. Maybe he let himself out.”

“Oh, Armitage, thank you so much for bringing him back. I was so worried.” She smiled broadly, looking into his eyes earnestly, before leading her horse back into his stall and removing the makeshift bridle. The two humans brushed and showered their animal friends with love. He turned to leave and she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Would you... would you like to have dinner with me?”

His eyebrows rose and eyes widened in surprise before a small smile shifted his lips. The sight of it warmed her heart and made her face warm. He nodded. “I’d love to.”

It’d been a long time since she’d been on a date but she didn’t completely consider it one. With him in his riding clothes and her in a shirt and jeans, it felt more like a dinner between friends. She found him charming but in a way that was awkward, like he was used to being charming with people except for her. For her, he fidgeted with his glass and opened his mouth to speak only to find his lips quirking into a smile and a light laugh instead.

The dinner has been lovely, the conversation comforting and friendly, but when the check came, Aneirin all but snatched it from his hands. Armitage gaped. “I will pay, I insist. You’ve had quite a day.”

“To me, it sounds as if you’ve had the same day,” she said, reaching for her wallet. “If your pride is at stake, we could split it.”

The redhead took a moment to formulate his reply. “I can get it next time.”

Aneirin paused, her thumb stopping on the piece of plastic. With disbelief, she asked, “Are you asking me to have dinner with you again?”

Armitage tilted his head and eyebrows went up in thought. “Or you could come over for dinner. It is always quite annoying to cook for one and I do enjoy it.”

“You want to make me dinner.” It wasn’t quite a question as it was a confused brain repeating the thing that befuddled it.

“Well, it would be quieter and more private,” he tried to explain, taking the napkin out of his lap to sit gently on the table between them. “Yes, I want to make you dinner.”

“You want me in your house.”

“Yes, I would like that very much.”

“Okay.” Armitage stared at the table for a moment before looking up into his companion’s concerned expression. “Are you sure?”

Aneirin covered half of her face, closed her eyes, and laughed.


	6. Arranged Marriage [Hux/Reader Insert]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Request] You are arranged to be married to General Hux of the First Order and only after an arduous journey do you get your happily ever after.   
> **NSFW, Unrevised, the only reader-insert I think worthy of staying up.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER WARNINGS: This contains a lot of sensitive themes including: suicide attempts/suicidal thoughts, self-harm (and blood from said self-harm), abuse, negative thoughts (self-loathing, worthlessness, uselessness), self-starvation/anorexia, and other signs of depression (sleeping too much, not completing tasks, lying down all the time, feelings of hopelessness and isolation). If you’re sensitive to these things, I highly suggest you don’t read this. If I missed something that you think needs to be tagged/mentioned, please tell me if you think it should be added. Thank you.

When you’d left Corsaira you didn’t think you’d find yourself into an arranged marriage, but here you were, staring at a man who you’d barely known while you spoke hollow and terse vows. The ceremony was quick, neither of you had even bothered to wear anything nicer than your uniforms, and there was no celebration afterwards. General Armitage Hux had married you to solidify your planet’s political allegiance to the First Order after practically welcoming the invasion force with open arms. You were unofficially considered a surrogate daughter for the ruling duke who’d gotten you a good position at a prestigious medical school, so this was determined to be the best match. You’d earned your degree and position in the top of your class, so you’d hoped to also earn your career, but the General had instituted you as his Chief Medical Officer without much experience outside of a planetary hospital.

You hadn’t even been off the planet until a shuttle came to take you to the Finalizer sitting in high orbit and now you were the commander of a star destroyer’s medical bay. You’d been distracted by your new husband’s green eyes and don’t realize everything is done until he coughs pointedly at you. It had been the end of his shift and your first one did not start until the next ship cycle, so you followed him to his quarters for appearances. There a meal had been setup while you were waiting and you eat in silence, taking little opportunities to look up into his face to admire it. You knew you weren’t much to look at, so it didn’t surprise you when his focus was solely on his plate. When you finished your own tea and refilled his while you were up, he didn’t acknowledge you.

It was going to be a long marriage; you even wondered if he expected to share a bed with you or would say your name like he wasn’t your commanding officer. You were constantly on edge because you knew that outsiders found the Corsairans “annoying” and “unsophisticated.” They described you as loud, unintelligible, and not serious enough. Your notions of planetary togetherness was objectionable to them and had been a source of contention during surrender agreements. You’d been like your neighbors and friends; in love with music, nature, history, and compassion for your fellows. It was a chore not humming to fill the silence, constantly looking for some ancient piece of technology that you’d gotten used to, or rushing to someone’s aid when something unfortunate happened.

The drops of water on your plate confused you until you put a hand to your face and felt the hot tears dripping down your cheeks. You couldn’t believe you were crying, this was not the time to cry, not in front of this man who struck fear in the officers who’d passed you in the hallways. It’s too late, though, because you feel yourself shake with a sob and, not knowing where to go in this new place, you hide your face in your hands while you try to calm yourself. You don’t expect it, but no comfort comes from the person across from you. The only sound in the room is the clink of silverware and your muffled weeping. He clears his plate to the kitchen counter and goes out to sit at a desk facing the stars, taking his data pad off of its charger to work on reports.

Eventually you have no more emotion to get out and you decide to wash the dishes by hand to distract yourself. You’d contemplated the block of sharp knives a little too long while putting them away, prompting you to wander into the living room. Arms crossed over your stomach, you consider what you’re supposed to do. Armitage offers no help as he doesn’t even look up at you as you pass him to sit on the ice blue sofa. It saddens you that there are no pictures hanging on the wall, no books stacked on the coffee table, no hand-knit blankets to wrap yourself in or fire to warm yourself. You’re exhausted from the trip and crying, so you gingerly lie down, hands for pillows and only your coat to provide a comforting weight.

You apparently fall asleep there for the night because you are woken up by a data pad’s alarm on the coffee table. Underneath it is your new First Order officer’s uniform perfectly pressed and folded. While you turn off the chime, you realize there is a protocol droid standing statue-still by the door. “Good morning, Chief Medical Officer. I am to assist you this morning as you become acquainted with the ship.”

Your head swivels around, looking for any sign of your husband, but there isn’t a speck of evidence that anyone really lived in these quarters. “The General has left for his shift, sir. I will show you the refresher and prepare your morning meal while you prepare.”

Under the hot stream you cry again, letting yourself have this moment to expend all of your extra emotions without anyone seeing or hearing. You dress and can barely recognize yourself in your stiff blacks; even your normally white lab coat has been replaced with a black one, draining any brightness in your face. Dark circles hang from your eyes, the whites red from tears, and your skin is pale. Brushing your teeth reminds you that you hadn’t even kissed Armitage, making your only kiss an innocent one you’d shared with a boy you used to play with as a child. You weren’t about to be unfaithful to him, even if he was determined to ignore you like a piece of furniture, so you considered if you’d die without having a real kiss.

Breakfast was simple and you had to force it down your throat because of your nonexistent appetite. Normally you were a fan of food, having to exercise heavily to avoid gaining weight, but this morning you didn’t have it in you. Data pad in hand you follow the droid through barren black halls in relative silence, passing crewmen staring at you strangely. In the med-bay, your new domain, your colleagues are cold and uninviting, offering you only the bare minimum of respect and the shortest of answers. Your new assistant shows you around begrudgingly and you sit down alone in your office to look over the last chief’s logs to understand what it is that was required of you. Sighing, you discover your position is nothing more than making sure everyone else did their jobs and things got done quickly. You spend 30 minutes twirling your pad’s stylus between your fingers and staring out at these foreign starts before deciding to take a round of the med-bay. Doctors and nurses gave you quick looks before going back to what they were doing, but you didn’t have the energy to engage in conversation or correct their icy looks.

How could you make these people talk to you when you couldn’t even get your husband to acknowledge your existence? The rest of your day passes by in a strange fog, your brain not feeling like it’s attached to your body. Shift ended you find your way back to your quarters, getting lost a few times and eventually running into a chrome-armored stormtrooper who showed you the right way. You thank the person, but they don’t respond and walk away. In the quarters you have nothing to do except wait, having already done everything in the med-bay before you left. On the sofa you wait, hands folded in your lap, eyes unfocused.

You don’t know what time it is when you wake up, head crooked against the armrest, limbs curled around yourself like a cold animal. The sound of silverware and the smell of food makes you get up, fingers combing out the tangles in your hair. As if under heavy gravity you stand up slowly and shuffle to the kitchen table to sit across from the redheaded man. Rubbing the feeling back into your arm, you stare at the plate in front of you with an empty expression. Armitage doesn’t seem particularly busy, so you try your best at conversation even though your voice comes out quiet and weak. “How was your day?”

He looks up at you with a disgusted look and you realize that the words hadn’t been in Galactic Basic. Maybe you had been speaking Corsairan in the med-bay and that had earned you reproachful looks. You look away in embarrassment as you try to rewire your brain to think correctly. You repeat the question, hating your accent, and he grunts a simple “typical.” You’re not sure if he means that his day was as usual or if such a scene was “typical” of your people. Your food goes untouched, you can’t bring yourself to eat it, so you wait until he’s done before you clear both of your plates and take back up your place on the sofa while he works. Tiredness begins to invade your body and you consider that you will sleep on the sofa a second night in a row before realizing that you had no clothes but your two uniforms. The one you’d come in had been taken away and replaced with a freshly pressed one hanging from a hook by the door.

When the general retired to his bedroom, you took off your clothes down to your underwear. It took some time to decide if you were going to take off your bra, but the soreness and irritation of having it on for so long convinced you to unfasten it. Self-conscious, you lied back down on the sofa, your face to the back and your body curled into a tight ball. You’re just about to slip into sleep when you hear the bedroom door slide open, but you don’t bother looking up at him, expecting it to be ignored, and instead pretend to be asleep. You feel a thin sheet placed over the sofa to cover you, causing you to jump up in surprise. His green eyes are impassive and his face blank as if carved from wood, but it was better than the hatred you’d caught sight of before. You find the words to thank him, but just like the Stormtrooper he says nothing as he goes back to his room.

Once you’d tried to show him some small affection, thinking maybe he just needed some prompting. He went to sit at his desk and you washed the dishes. Finished, you went into the living room and, instead of going to sit on the sofa to fall asleep, you stood behind him and placed your hands on his shoulders. You were pushed back with the force of him quickly getting out of his chair and the wind left your lungs as you slammed into the wall. A gloved hand held you in place by the throat, squeezing just enough to hurt. You were begging to be let go, but in your panic it wasn’t in a language he could understand. Through tears you saw a hateful sneer on his sometimes handsome face. “Don’t dare think you can touch me.”

He let you go and you sank to the floor where you cried into your hands. Your husband stared down at you for a moment, regarding the pitiful sight in front of him, before he sighed and went to his own room. When he was gone you crawled onto the sofa, curled up to provide some sense of protection. In the morning it was as normal and the event went unaddressed.

And so was your days for what felt like years, but was only a handful of months. You would wake up on the sofa to an empty room and spend your day wandering around the med-bay or sitting in your office. The once vibrant and optimistic person you used to be drained away bit by bit until it became a struggle to get up in the morning. You never had the stomach for lunch and some days you didn’t bother getting up to join Armitage at the table for dinner. Every morning you would put the sheet back in his room and every night it found its way back to you when he had prepared for sleep. It was the only act of kindness he’d shown you since you’d been there. He still never invited you to sleep in a real bed or given you as much as a chaste peck to the cheek. His hands never touched you and it used to make you ache, but now you’d become a husk of the person you’d been.

* * *

One morning you opened your eyes and turned off your alarm without getting up. No one asked where you were or came to the room to check on you. It proved to you that your position on the ship was as worthless you; they could function without you doing your best impression of a wraith floating through the halls, your voice mistaken for a draft through the cracks. You leave breakfast to go cold on the table, unable to recognize how hungry you were or that you hadn’t eaten anything in days.

You find yourself standing in front of the mirror in the refresher, stripped down to your underwear. Bony fingers traced the lines of your ribcage like a tiger’s claw marks in your side. Touching them, you notice how much more your cheekbones protrude and how sunken your once bright eyes had become. Looking down, you poke at your hip bones like daggers trying to break from the skin and smooth your hand over your caving stomach.

Cold water pouring over your head, running cold as ice, you stare at nothing in particular from your position on the bottom of the shower. Something sparkling and metallic catches your eyes on a low ledge and you pick it up, turning it over on your hands to inspect it. Clicking it open, you test the edge of it against the skin of your thighs and watch the trickle of blood run down the pale skin to get swept up in the water going down the drain. Without much thought you make more little cuts, taking time to watch the blood well up and fall down like tears. You suppose it hurts but you don’t feel it, so you keep doing it in a distracted manner.

“What in hell are you doing?!” You would’ve jumped in surprise if you’d had the energy. Instead you ignored the question like you hadn’t heard and made to continue your new ritual before a gloved hand took your wrist roughly, the razor tumbling from your fingertips. The water is turned off and heavy breathing fills the small room. You don’t look him in the eye, you assume he doesn’t really care about you, he’s just worried about you taking his things and ruining his refresher. “Get up.”

You try your best, but you’re weak and your legs fall out from under you; he only catches you with barely enough time to make sure your head doesn’t split open on the tiles. You feel nauseous but there’s nothing in your stomach. Your vision blurs and greys at the edges, your tongue feels like sand in your mouth. The General leans you against the wall to grab a towel and wrap it around your shaking form, easily lifting you into his arms. A large bandage from the cabinet is pulled tight over the marks on your thighs and he deposits you on the sofa where you should’ve stayed that morning. He says something to you, but you don’t really hear the words.

A bowl of food is shoved in front of you but you don’t attempt to eat it, only stare at it in disinterest. You wonder how many days you’d have to not eat before you just wither away into dust, no longer around to bother these people. A fist works its way into your hair, pulling your skull back so that a spoon can pour the warm liquid down your throat. Tears fall from your eyes, but your husband continues. You’re left crying out the last of your energy on the sofa while he eats his own dinner at his usual place at the table. You hear him mutter, “worthless… ridiculous… how am I supposed to get anything done…”

The next morning he’s gone again and something possesses you to put your uniform on and show up to your shift. No one looks up at you as you come in, so you go straight to your office. Your day is spent staring out at twinkling stars, head on your arms crossed on the desk. Your door swishing open surprises you; it’s a man you don’t recognize, but you hardly know more than a tenth of the crew. He pulls a blaster, fixing you in place, and gives you a small nod. “No hard feelings.”

You duck out of the way, the bolt leaving a scorch mark in the wall behind you. From your belt you detach a knife, one that your father had given to you as a graduation present, and take the moment of the would-be assassin’s confusion to rush at him, the blade tearing open his throat with the precise manner of a surgeon. Hot blood poured over your face, hands, all of you. You watched the life fade from his eyes as a trooper rushed through the door. The knife falls from your hands and you fall to the floor. The trooper manages to soften your fall and you’re taken away into your own med-bay.

You were already back in your quarters before you realized what had happened. The confusion of it made your head spin again and you gripped the sofa cushion to keep from falling over again. The door to the room swished open, sending you into a panic, but it stayed open while two people talked outside of it; from behind you recognized your husband by the red hair and his brusque voice. You caught sight of chrome armor.

“Captain, you do not need to apologize to me more; it was my conscious decision to leave that man aboard.” You don’t hear the response, maybe it was just a nod, but the soldier stalked off and the General turned around to enter his room, looking a little shocked to see you. Anger became the only thing you could feel, the fire of it motivating you to stand up to your full height. You let out a string of curses before remembering who you were talking to.

“You knew!” The betrayal, the sheer disregard for your well-being, it stung more than the cuts on your legs. You would’ve broken a window if it didn’t empty out into space. Through rage-filled eyes you couldn’t register him as another human being, just a shade in the shape of a man. Your hands balled up into fists, the nails digging into your palms until they bled. “If you wanted me out of your way, you should’ve just left me on Corsaira! But you bring me here! For what?! You don’t touch me, you don’t sleep next to me, and you won’t even say a kind word to me! If I am so worthless and annoying, why am I here?! For you to kick me around? To be some… pointless supervisor of people who think of me like the dust on their shoes? To be made fun of behind my back?”

His mouth parts slightly, unable to formulate a response to your tirade. Hot tears stream down your face again, you pick up your data pad and slam it onto the ground, breaking the screen into a million tiny slivers. You pull your hideous coat around yourself and stomp your way to stand in front of him, eyes fixing him with your most hateful glare. “You should’ve let me die the first time, husband.”

You push past him to go out into the ship, but his hand grips your elbow. Not even considering the ramifications, you smack him with as much force as you can produce. The blood rushes to his cheek, leaving a large red mark, your hand stings. The shock of it doesn’t even come to mind. “You’re supposed to love and protect me! You fucking monster!”

You’re gone before General Hux has a chance to retort; wandering through the halls in a raging stomp you don’t care where you go like a wraith made of fire intending to burn down everything around it. Officers and crewmen are blurs skittering out of the way like roaches from your flame, every new hallway another part of the labyrinth keeping you from going home. You run upon the man you recognize as your husband’s assistant and grab him roughly, spinning him to face you. That sweet face fills with terror at your gargoyle’s glare.

“Colonel, I-“

“I’m a lieutenant-“

“I don’t care! I demand to be let off this tyrannical hellscape of a ship! It doesn’t matter what planet, as long as it has a ship that will get me home.” Your teeth grit and you police yourself to keep them from cracking under the pressure.

“Ma’am, no one is allowed off the ship without the General’s—“ Your grip tightens on his collar.

“What is the fucking advantage of being that lich of man’s wife if I can’t remove myself from his ship?!” You shake the man once, eliciting a pained response. “If I’m not let off within the week, so help me the stars will be your graves.”

You’re pulled away from the shaking young man and you look up into the face of your husband, his cheek still red from your hand. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes aren’t as hard as they usually are. Your anger doesn’t falter and you rip your arm from his grasp. His voice is steady and collected. “Return to our quarters.”

“I’m not yours to order around. If you can’t respect me then I don’t have to listen.” You don’t try to hide the rage bubbling back up to the surface. People start to stare, you let them. You dare them to do anything.

“You’re hysterical.”

“Because I must be insane! To be upset about being trapped on this joyless ark of corruption bound on its useless journey to the ends of the galaxy to destroy every shred of love and happiness it can before it’s inevitably turned to dust because I’ve read a fucking history book and EVERYONE FUCKING DIES AND IT DOESN’T MATTER. Yes, I’m hysterical. You’re so fucking right because you’re right all the fucking time, aren’t you, big bad General?” He stares, everyone stares, with their mouths wide open. You’re not sure where your anger with him ends and your hate of the First Order begins.

“You’re the army of the fucking dead, killing everything you touch, but the secret of the story is that the dead don’t know they’re dead and evil and leaving their rot everywhere they go until they’ve marched through the gates of hell. You’re the fucking lich king and I would rather die than follow you into battle. If I’m your prisoner, then treat me as one! If the only way I’m leaving this ship is in a box, then I will decry the First Order until you execute me for whatever crime it is to tell someone who they truly are. Or are you a fucking coward?” Breath labored, body tensed, you watch for his reaction and you briefly see sadness. It’s replaced by a scowl as quickly as it showed itself.

“Lieutenant, have my… wife taken to the largest detention room that we have.” You straighten up, glare still on your face as you search his. He’s unable to look at you any longer, diverting those green eyes to disperse the crowd silently. The lieutenant gingerly places a hand on your shoulder and it’s the gentlest touch you’d received since getting on that shuttle. You try to keep some wind in your sails, to maintain your position as the unpredictable outsider. The man quietly whispers an apology as the doors to your new cell slide closed behind you and the magnetic lock clicks.

In the darkness you’re alone. On this ship of the dead you are the only one made of flesh. Your husband, crowned in fire, has swallowed up your life in the black hole he has for a heart. The anger drains out of you without a face to assign it to, your body grows heavy in its absence. You wouldn’t consider what you do sleep, because it is plagued by fires erupting from a grinning skull, its clothes black and perfectly pressed. It regards you with no expression but with those blazing sockets. Your flesh melts away as its bone-hands grip your arm, caressing you, tracing the lines of your face. It whispers but you do not hear what it says. You wake up screaming, terror filling your thoughts, heart threatening to leave your chest.

* * *

You’re not sure how long it has been because you’ve restlessly slept through the meals marking the time of day and no one speaks to you, not that you want them to. You pray to the stars and whatever deities exist that the next time the door opens, the duke will be standing there, apologizing for what he’d gotten you into and taking you home. But you do not have such luck, because the next person to show their face is your husband. You would stand, but you’ve lost the strength; you barely have the energy to harden your gaze up towards him. In the pale light you can see the slight shake in his body and pain in his eyes.

“Please, let me take you home.” His voice is thin and genuinely concerned, but you brush it away as a trick. You find the will to get to your feet, he looks hopeful.

“I want to go to my home.” Disappointment crosses it only to be replaced by a hard look.

“You must stay on this ship.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I will make this up to you, just—“ Armitage grabs your arm and you feel the skin of his cheek on your hand as you reflexively smack him again, causing his grip to drop. Hurt fills his eyes, hatred fills yours.

“You can’t make this up to me. The damage is done.” His pink lips make a thin white line as he considers you. “I go home, or I’m executed. I won’t live here with you.”

He exits the room, the conversation finished, and you collapse into your cot. This time you actually stay awake and eat the meal shoved through your door. It seems better than the previous ones you’ve watched grow cold and be removed.

It becomes a cycle. Every day your husband comes back, he begs you to come back to your quarters, you refuse, he touches you, and your hand strikes his face. As the days pass you notice his skin pale even more and his eyes look even more tired. There’s a tremor in his hand as he grabs you. His voice gets weaker. A bruise blooms up from his collar. It catches your attention the next time he comes in, so does the limp in his step.

“Please, come back with me.”

“You’ll make it up to me.” It’s not a question.

“I know it doesn’t make up for what I’ve done… for who I’ve been.” He’s unfocused, his coppery hair limp against his face.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Slept?”

“… Nightmares.”

“And that bruise?” You touch it lightly, memory screaming at you to not do it because of the last time, but he just closes his eyes.

“I wanted to give you what you want, but…” Shame blankets him like fresh snow. Your hand retreats.

“I can’t leave this ship.” His hand gently takes yours, you don’t fight it this time. He takes this as a sign and pulls you into his arms, your face buried in his chest while his hides in your greasy hair. You can feel how weak his body is. 

“Punish me every day, no one will ever bother you, just come back.”

It didn’t feel right, following the commander of bones through the halls back to your rooms. People diverted their gaze and you wondered if it was because of you or your husband. He was starting to look like the wraith you claimed him to be, pale and thin, and the part of you that was still a doctor hurt to see it. You were surprised that he bothered to shorten his pace when he realized you were practically jogging to keep up on your short legs.

Inside the room had changed just enough for you to notice. His clothes had been haphazardly thrown over the furniture, dishes piling up, glasses smelling of alcohol scattered across the coffee table and desk. You shivered in the chill and a warm weight wrapped around your shoulders, you reflexively tug the great coat around you. You’re hungry, tired and you haven’t showered in an uncounted number of days, but looking at the state of the place and the faint human scent from the coat collar, it seemed that the General’s years of habits were disarrayed after you’d left. Resigned to fate, you clear a spot on the sofa while your husband disappeared into the bedroom. You’ve just sat down when he returns with a stack of clothing in his hands, extending them towards you.

“Please, take a shower, take your time, I’ll have dinner here when you’re done.” Armitage seems less panicked now that you’re here and you wonder why. You let the coat fall away from your shoulders and take the clothing from him, examining them to find they’re simple non-uniform clothes with no sign of insignia. “They’ll be too big, they’re the size you came in with.”

You don’t respond, brushing past him into the bedroom and then the refresher. While starting the water you notice his straight razor has grown a little clip with a fingerprint reader on it. This makes you huff. You strip and get into the shower, letting the hot water loosen the grime on your skin and melt the tension in your muscles. Your mind wanders, nothing in particular sticking for long. It feels good to be dressed in plain clean clothes instead of the uniform you’d been stuck in for days. In the kitchen he waits for you, pushing food around his plate sullenly with a fork. Your steps are so light he doesn’t notice you until you’re sitting in front of him and his face brightens slightly.

“How long was I away?” You try to keep anger out of your voice; he’s being nice, even if it might be a trick or a lie. His green eyes have trouble looking at you directly.

“A week.” Your doctor instincts kick in while you watch him and you can’t help your concern.

“You look sick.” Armitage looks up, surprise painting his face. He looks away again, trying to convince himself to eat. You take a bite, you’re starving.

“I’ve had a rough week.”

“Because of me?” You’re not important, so it makes no sense to you that the general would have such a rough time with you gone.

“I can’t explain it.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?” His copper hair shakes with his head and he takes a small bite of his dinner.

“It’s as if… your presence was keeping something away. I didn’t notice until you were gone.” He takes more bites. This is the most you’ve ever spoken to him in the months you’ve been there.

“That’s why you wanted me back.”

“Yes, but also because I am sorry for everything and I want to make that up to you.” His eyes are earnest but you’ve become a suspicious person.

“What’s it like, with me gone?” You eat while he talks.

“Horrible nightmares… I hear voices in my head, all of the time, constantly talking. I see things I know aren’t there. I’m more… anxious than usual.” He takes a sip of his tea. “But… it’s gone now.”

“The place between the trees…” You sip your drink, looking out at the stars. It was still strange to see so many, for them to be so clear without the atmosphere between you.

“Between… trees?” It shocks you that after all of this time feeling like you had to hide yourself you’d slipped back into talking as if the person across from you understood.

“It’s nothing, it’s… I don’t know the word.” You scrunch your nose in thought. “When you use a story that people know to compare a situation to.”

“Allegory.” You nod and let your face become passive again. Armitage seems more confident in looking at you now. “What is ‘the place between the trees?’”

“It’s just a story, you wouldn’t care.”

“Tell me, please.” He moves his body closer to the table and leans his elbows against it. You stare at him for a bit to determine that he’s serious and then you have to recall it in Basic.

“A god of nature planted the trees in a forest and, loving the majesty of them and wanting them to never be lonely, he planted many and close together. Of course, many of them didn’t survive, because a tree needs its space. The god cried for the lost saplings, he was distraught over their deaths because he’d been the one to plant them so close. His tears watered the ground as he moved in the empty spaces where the saplings had been, removing their withered sticks from the ground. Before him he only saw the sorrow of his dead, but behind him flowers and ferns sprouted where his tears fell.” You chuckle as you finish the story, rolling your eyes. “It’s just a dumb story.”

“He regretted it,” your husband’s voice is soft and faraway. You don’t respond, finishing your tea instead. “We don’t have stories like that. It’s…”

“Just an old story.”

“I was going to say beautiful.”

“The First Order doesn’t exactly treat us that way. They don’t teach our stories in their schools.” You angrily look out of the window. “They’d rather erase us.”

“I’m sorry.” It was genuine, his eyes sad. It was always in the eyes.

“I’m sorry too.”

“You can have the bed tonight.” He picks up your plates and takes them to the counter, sighing when he looks at the mess he’s left this entire time. You get up to stand next to him, assessing the damage, and you start to clean. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You look like you’re going to fall down.”

“I’m feeling better.”

“Go sit down.” He tries to argue but eventually gives in and moves out to the sofa. It takes you quite a while to get through the clutter and your hands are scalded and pruned, but it feels good to do something again. You find Armitage asleep, slightly snoring, so you take off his boots and lift his legs onto the sofa to rest comfortably. From the bedroom you find a thick blanket and take the pillow that looks most used. Covering him and placing his head on the pillow instead of letting gravity crane his neck down to the sofa cushion, you give him a considerable gaze. You could leave, but where would you go? Realizing how exhausted you are, you go back to lie down on the unfamiliar bed. The sheets are infused with the smell of his skin and you forget yourself enough to breathe it in like a flower’s scent.

In the morning he’s gone, but you find signs of his presence left around. The blanket you’d given him was given to you, the pillow put back in its rightful place. Another set of clothes were placed out on a dresser and a set of fresh towels with a new toothbrush were sitting in the refresher. Showered and dressed you padded into the living room to see an attempt was made at cleaning up. With nothing to do after eating your breakfast, you finish the job to the best of your ability. It doesn’t take you that long and you look at the small clock on the desk. He wouldn’t be back for hours.

So you put on your shoes and walk through the doors. You remember the path you’d taken that first day, the event burned into your mind. To your surprise, no one tried stopping you; General Hux had made good on his promise that no one would bother you. In the shuttle bay you find one being loaded and, giving a quick glance around, you sneak aboard. It doesn’t matter where this one is going, just that it leaves. You could deal with the rest when you weren’t on this ship any longer.

A large hand roughly grabs your arm and drags you from your hiding spot out into the shuttle bay. Deposited on the cold floor, you look up at a tall black figure, its helmet boring into your skull with its empty sockets. You try to get up, but a boot is placed heavily on your ribs, keeping you down. Through the modulation and panic you don’t understand what he says, but the more times you don’t answer the angrier he gets. You hear your husband’s voice yell from across the expanse of the hangar. “Ren, stop hurting her this instant! This is unnecessary.”

The stranger barely needed to expend effort to keep Hux off of him. In fact you’re pretty sure the two never connect even though the General is pushed with such force that he slides across the floor and collides with the wall. It shouldn’t really matter to you what happens to him, but you want to rush to his side. The boot lets go of you and you run as fast as you can on your short legs. You place your hand on his back as your husband tries to get himself to his feet, but he whines in pain when trying to put weight on his arm. Gingerly taking it, apologizing when he winces, you assess the damage to it and find it dislocated. While you put it back in place, a shadow darkens the two of you and you feel your rage resurface.

You jump back in terror as Armitage begins to choke and grab at an invisible hand on his throat. With your quick reflexes your hands fly to undo his collar, but just your touch seems to make the offending force flee. Eyes like daggers you look up at the man you don’t know, one of your hands gripping your husband’s so you can help him up. This causes the previously overbearing figure to jerk from you. In a swift motion you whack at him with as much strength as you can muster and, even though your small hands probably didn’t matter to a man of his size, he retracted like he’d been bitten by a snake. His hand extends in a violent gesture, but only the wall behind you denting gives you any indication that there was any point to it. Several more dents were made before you decided to pounce, your vision going red and tunneling on him.

He could’ve easily thrown you off if he didn’t try to avoid touching you at all costs. Eventually he topples and, sitting on his squirming chest, you take that helmeted head and start slamming back into the floor. You probably would’ve killed him or at least given a concussion if Armitage hadn’t pulled you away by the torso. You scream all of your frustration out at the writhing figure while you’re carried away. In your quarters you’re deposited on the sofa and you watch your husband comb his hands through his hair.

“That man was the one who hurt you.” Your voice takes him out of his reverie.

“Yes.”

“Why?” He sits next to you on the sofa, sighing heavily and rubbing at his shoulder. You swat his hands away and do it yourself.

“For letting you hurt yourself, letting you almost be killed, making you want to leave the ship.” He sheds his uniform jacket and you start working on all of the tension in his body. “They want to use you for something, I don’t know what. You’re special. I’ve finally figured out how.”

“Who’s they?” You keep your hands on his body, afraid that if you stop he’ll be thrown around again.

“Ren, and Supreme Leader Snoke. They can control the Force.”

“We had people like that, we called them magi. I know one. He didn’t flinch when I touched him.”

“It doesn’t seem like they know what they’re doing.” You take the chance to stop touching him and nothing happens, so you rub the soreness from your own hands.

“I won’t be used, even if I don’t know what for.” He turns to you, his face serious but reassuring.

“I won’t let them.”

* * *

You stay by the General’s side, after a long conversation about how best to protect you both from Kylo Ren’s wrath. If you weren’t with him, your husband could find himself the subject of some cruel mistreatment and if you were alone in your quarters then anything could happen to you. So you stood on the bridge in your civilian clothes trying to fend off boredom. Kylo Ren came and went with not a word exchanged once he’d caught sight of you and Hux offered a quiet thank you. He tried talking to you kindly and doing you small favors, probably still in some attempt to earn your trust and affection. This was your life for a month.

One day, instead of heading for the officer’s dining room or your quarters, Hux started in the direction of the shuttle bay. Without a word you both climbed aboard and you sat beside him in the co-pilot’s chair of the small shuttle. The ship was in hyperspace before he said anything to you. “We’re not going back.”

You’re not so confident, but you have no choice. The shuttle drops out of hyperspace and there is a freighter waiting in orbit around a planet you don’t know the name of. Over the communications channel you hear a familiar language; a Corsairan trader was tractoring in your shuttle. From the hangar you watch as the shuttle is tractors back out and destroyed with a photon torpedo at a safe distance. You don’t recognize the crew but you’re ecstatic to talk to some of your own people again. For the next couple weeks you sleep above your husband in a bunk bed and, after sleeping in the same bed for so long, you sense his sadness at being alone. One day you do him the favor of lying next to him for a few minutes before scuttling up to your bed to sleep. He deserved it at least for arranging this trip.

There was some ship-hopping in the high-orbit anchor of a neighboring star system planet before you were both on your way to Corsaira. The small ship you were currently on was a smuggler and so, as to avoid any potential searches by the First Order for your deserting husband, you were stuffed together in a hidden compartment. It was impossible not to touch each other and, not to too much surprise, Hux took the chance to hold your hand and to your surprise you let him. It seemed to make him happy and, for whatever reason, that made you happy too. The thought of going home had eclipsed some of your more negative emotions.

The signal tap came and you were both crawling out of the compartment like drowning cats. Outside you stepped back into the familiar freshness of the planet and let the sunlight warm you. Hux looked mostly bothered by it, but equally curious. The ring of mountains had served as a smuggler’s retreat due to their deflection of sensors, so the pilots were fairly confident you wouldn’t be found. You thanked them and you were the one now leading the way.

“This is a beautiful planet.” It’s the first real words he’d spoken since his promise that you’d never have to step foot on an Order ship ever again. You took a moment to let him bask in the sight of the gorgeous valley and the snowy peaks, his face bright and hopeful. “I can see why you didn’t want to leave.”

You don’t say anything, probably because of the lump in your throat. This planet was majestic and pure, but you’d never really heard an off-worlder say it, especially not someone from the First Order. Why was this man so different? Your feet carry you down the narrow barely-there path down the mountain and when you slide a hand reaches out for yours. You find you don’t hate it so much. His green eyes shift from concern to sparkling in the sun, a small smile creeping on his face.

“Please, if you could, would you tell me about this place?” Armitage walks as closely as he can in order to hear you. You start spouting off historical facts, the names of important people, and what it was like to grow up; all the while answering his small interjecting questions that showed genuine interest in your words. The two of you took a small respite on a cliff and watched the shadows of the clouds roll over the green valley. You’d wished there was something to eat, but you knew you’d be back to civilization soon. A voice takes you out of your reverie. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere special. You don’t have to come.” A hand clasps over your own, his eyes are alight with determination and pleading.

“Please, let me come with you. I can’t make everything up to you if we’re apart.”

“What if you being gone would make up for it?” It was what you’d always thought, but now you weren’t so sure. He’d, to all appearances, become a deserter to finally bring you home and arranged everything without getting caught. He could’ve kept her in that cell, or in their rooms, or split up and gone back to his own family and planet. His eyes filled with sadness, you assume from your question.

“I don’t have a family or a home. I envy you this.” You look at him in confusion, the look is slowly mirrored on his face. “You didn’t say that aloud.”

I certainly did not, you think, and Armitage snaps back his hand like you’d bit it. “I didn’t realize you were one of them.”

“Maybe just some things. I can’t do things Ren can do.” He considers this as he goes back to watching the clouds.

Maybe you don’t hate him after all.

“I heard that.” You smack his arm playfully, he laughs, and it makes you smile. “You’re very beautiful. Like this planet.”

“There’s much lovelier women here. You’ll find someone who will make you forget all about me.” It actually hurt to think about being apart from him, especially if it was for someone else. His hand squeezes yours and you hear him like your own thoughts.

“I want to be with you, always.” You consider his face in the sunlight and get a small bit of pleasure at seeing him in civilian clothing. A small bolt of electric happiness shoots up your joined hands as he smiles. It looks good on him.

“We’re going to… a hide-away. It’s where our people like Ren go.” He deserves to know where you’re going, you figure, if he’s going to follow you to the edge of the earth. “We just have to meet someone first.”

“And What is this hide-away like?” Your fingers intertwine as he moves closer to you.

“I don’t know, but supposedly no one should be able to find us.” Rested, you get up and start on your journey again. You start running out of things to say about your planet, resorting to answering every minuscule question that comes to his mind as you walk. He’d started asking you to point to things and say their names in Corsairan; you fill with unexplainable delight as you stop to name the wild flowers on the side of the path and he picks one to put behind your ear.

“I’ll bring you flowers every day.” You blush and say something about not liking flowers, but you suspect now that he might be listening in to your thoughts because a blush dusts his own cheeks. The path widens and you let him hold your hand.

* * *

Armitage makes good on his promise; every morning there are new flowers on your dining room table. Some are wild, others from the gardens, and on rare occasions there is one planted in a pot that starts a collection around the house. He tries to cook breakfast for you, but he eventually settles for just making you your tea or coffee and lets you do the cooking. Every meal he savors like it’s his last and he thanks you with a kiss afterwards.

Slowly the small community becomes home, even if it’s not your village or the duke’s estate. Old friends come to see you when they can and bring you things from outside. Hux becomes fascinated with your books and music; you find him at the exact time every day reading a new tome and listening to a new record. His favorites are the classicals and operas that he can’t understand, but he finds songs that he insists on dancing with you to. His Corsairan improves from the semi-immersion and endless supply of literature, so eventually you rarely hear him use Basic. Having him whisper in your ear fills your stomach with butterflies that could lift you off of your feet.

Even though it didn’t take long for you to let him hold you and kiss you, it was a while before you were together as a couple. It surprised you how suddenly you were ready to trust him that way, as if a switch had been flipped. A kiss goodnight turned into many kisses that set your body on fire. That first night he didn’t even seek his own pleasure, only touching you, running his tongue over sensitive parts, and using his fingers to play your nerves like an instrument. You had to muffle your moans in a pillow to not be heard. Just as good was when he held you against his chest and you drifted off to sleep to the sound of his soothing words echoing in your head.

The bond was special, the head monk had told you. It was forged by tragedy, Love, and respect. If it was powerful enough it could be felt from the other side of the planet; but you only had experience talking from the opposite sides of the commune. It was a source of amusement and frustration when one of you would think dirty things or tell jokes while the other was in a serious situation.

Several years had passed and the First Order fell to the New Republic. Armitage cheered and kissed you just like all of the other Corsairan couples at the news. You were free, you both thought, no one would come for you now. This had become your home, but you could go wherever you wanted. He thought about seeing the ocean while you listed all of the people you wanted to see. You packed some food and clothes and you both set out on a journey together.

Hands clasped together you stand in the rolling surf, looking out at the pink and orange sunset on the water. It’s quiet, except for the crashing of the waves and the calling of sea birds. He picks up a shell from the sand, turning it over in his hands to inspect it before giving it to you. You put it in the box with the others; one from each beach you’d visited. Tears stream down your face as you watch the sun fall from the sky and faintly you can hear him sob from beside you. Words fail in your throat so you think them as hard as you can.

_I forgive you._

It’s like an echo in your head, two voices bouncing off of each other:

_I love you, always._


	7. Frottage [Cadet Hux/Aneirin]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request Prompt: Hux and Anierin accidentally dry-humping during their academy days and getting really into it. **NSFW-ish, unrevised**

**Hiding in a supply closet had seemed like a good idea at the time;** while she’d fought some of them off before, Aneirin wasn’t particularly in the mood to get in a fight with cadets again. So she stood in the cramped space for some indeterminate amount of time to wait them out. Unfortunately the door didn’t lock from the inside, so she was left hoping it wouldn’t open. Which it did, and she cocked an elbow back to punch whoever it was who came through, but stopped when she caught sight of the familiar red hair. Cadet Hux came in and closed the door behind him quickly, bracing the door with his bodyweight.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he whispered in a humored but breathy voice. In the dim light offered by a single dying lightbulb she could see him smiling crookedly at her. “Seems we had the same idea.”

“Must be bad out there, if Cadet Hux is hiding in a supply closet.” He chuckled in response and she laughed too. She liked making him laugh and smile, she liked to imagine it was something he only did for her. 

“Sometimes the best strategy is waiting the enemy out. Protect more important things.” She chuckled nervously, his tone implying something she was unsure was real or not. Her balance faltered as she tried to make more room for him and her only choice was to fall forward on top of him. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling more, potentially knocking her head against a shelf, so her face was buried in his chest and her body pressed into his. 

As all healthy young men did, he rocked his hips into the soft warm thing that made him hard, even if it was by accident. Aneirin whimpered at the sensation, the intimacy of being held so closely and having his hot ragged breath in her ear. She moved against him in turn, receiving a hitched breath and a tightening of the embrace. Slowly an arm that was supposed to be on her back wandered down to her waist and then around her ass, pulling her more fully into the roll of his pelvis. 

Each thrust was met with one of her own in a steady rhythm and their lips found each other, gliding and pressing like writhing hungry snakes. He tasted like bitter tea and the faint mint of his cigarettes, smelled like aftershave and soap, felt way too warm to be human. Somehow she found her back pressed against the cold floor, her feet in the air with her thighs resting in the curve of his waist while his feet were braced against the door. Plush pink lips wandered to her neck, leaving a trail of firm kisses in their wake and gently nipping the skin above her pulse.

The whole time he rutted himself on her, a desperate whine raising in his throat between sucking in much-needed breaths. They became more desperate with long strokes, until finally she felt him tense and drown a strangled moan in her shoulder, then another groan was muffled by her mouth, a gloved hand stroking her cheek. She’d gotten flustered from the contact but was glad that her desire and curiosity hadn’t been fulfilled in that moment, not wanting her first experience to be in a supply closet. The softness of Hux’s afterglow was plenty satisfying; being nuzzled and lightly kissed by her long-time crush was a dream come true. 


	8. Getting Caught Redhanded [Hux/Aneirin]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request Prompt: Imagine how traumatized Mitaka would be if he walked in on Hux fucking Ani bent over on her desk. **NSFW but not explicit, unrevised**

**One General had a much harder time** keeping their hands off the other than their partner did, and that General was Hux. At one point he’d taken it as evidence of her disinterest in him or his inability to please her properly, causing him to first get angry with her, which caused her to avoid him, which in turn spiraled him into the bottom of a bottle of Corsairan Vivat, the strongest liquor his partner- ex-partner?- had managed to smuggle off planet. What had convinced him that truly cared about him was how she showed up to his quarters- barged in, really- and dragged him to her medbay where she both called him names and coddled him in the most humbling way. He could’ve blamed it on the alcohol but what brought him to tears was how she said ‘I love you, dumbass’ right after he vomited, rubbing his back as he did so. Hux hadn’t gotten sick from drinking since he was a teenager, either from practice or self-control, and he’d certainly failed at the self-control this time. 

When it came to her, he could admit that he was capable of mistakes without guilt; he didn’t like making mistakes and he did own up to them because that is what a truly powerful person does, but with her it felt like a healing experience rather than bringing oneself to be flogged. So he went to the hydroponics bay after his first shift back from his short sick leave and arranged a bouquet he thought both reflected her tastes and his feelings; an apology and reminder of affection. He’d long ago learned she preferred more permanent things, he’d gotten her several leafy plants to liven up her office, but it was difficult to keep anything as vibrant as lilies or roses anywhere on the starship besides the hydroponics bay. No one stared at him carrying an arrangement worthy of royalty down the hallway, though he wouldn’t have cared if they had, and he actually received impressed looks from the medical staff on his way to her office. 

Upon entering, Hux found her back to the door, head bowed as she stood leaning against her desk with her datapad in her hands. Placing the flowers down in her field of view, he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, laying his cheek on top of her head. He took in a deep breath, relishing the scent of her hair, and he sighed as his eyes fluttered shut. “I’ve been inconsiderate, a heel, and I’m sorry, my love.”

What he hadn’t expected was her pressing her body back against his in a particularly… sensual manner. The datapad didn’t turn off and he couldn’t be sure how much information she was actually absorbing, but the extra height in the heels of her boots allowed her to rub her round backside against his hips. He bit his lip to keep down a breathy moan. “Is this my punishment?”

“No, I need you.” Three words had never made him so warm before, except maybe the first time she told him she loved him. Someone like her needed a disaster like him and it was overwhelming. When the datapad was put in its charging cradle he knew she was serious and his hands started to wander her body. She chuckled and it felt like his soul vibrated. “Missed me?”

“Oh, Stars, yes. I need you, too.” He buried his face in her neck, pushing aside her collar which only now he realized had been unbuttoned, making it easier for him to access her soft skin. One glove came off, undid the fastenings of her slacks, and slid under her underwear to find her wet. The fact that she was ready for him already had him whining in desperation, an impossibly hard erection straining against his uniform. He relieved himself of just enough clothing to free himself and shimmied down her own clothing. With a firm hand on her lower back, he tilted her forward onto her desk and his cock found her entrance without much issue. 

The office filled with the sounds of their skin smacking together at a consistent pace and the desk shuddering underneath them. One hand braced him on the black brushed steel while the other held her hip in place. Hux didn’t think he’d ever sounded so needy, whining and moaning with every motion and every squeeze, but it didn’t matter. She needed him. He was a grunting, thrusting, panting mess just for her and he gave her all he had, breathing soft words of love and devotion when he could. 

The General had not been responding to his communiques for quite some time so Lieutenant Mitaka was charged with hunting the man down. As his personal assistant, it was easy to find out that a bouquet of flowers had been made and that could only mean one thing, so he briskly walked to the medbay. He’d expected to find the two having a chat, at most maybe some kissing or hugging that they’d been caught doing on several occasions. He had not in the least been expecting to find the small doctor bent over her own desk with her co-commander thrusting against her, making sounds the lieutenant could never have dreamed of hearing from the man. He froze in place, expecting his presence to be discovered, but if they were aware that the door had swished open then they didn’t care.

Mitaka hedged his bets and backed quickly out of the office and whatever remaining loyalty to his superior officers her had manifested itself as quickly locking the door from the outside, only unlocking when it detected movement from inside. No one would make the same mistake he had. The march back to the bridge felt long and painful, the sound of flesh-on-flesh filling his ears, the surprisingly high-pitched whine of a man in the throes of passion. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t even look up when General Hux returned to the bridge and asked for a status update. 

“What’s wrong with you, Lieutenant?” Normally those words would be hurled like daggers but they almost sounded more concerned than angry. That notion bothered Mitaka. He forced himself to look the man in the eye; in his mind he was thanking the stars that he hadn’t actually seen anymore more than the color of the Chief Medical Officer’s backside in terms of ‘pieces of anatomy one would rather not see.’ 

“Nothing, Sir. Just a… preoccupation.” Sharp green eyes examined him and realization slowly registered on the redhead’s face, followed by uncharacteristic blush. That was almost more disturbing than catching his superior officers rutting like two animals in heat. 

“It won’t happen again.” Hux’s face twitched in annoyance at himself. “ _See to it that_ it won’t happen again.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 


	9. A Million Lives [Hux/Aneirin]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific Content warnings (mentioned): Domestic abuse (abuse in general), Animal death, suicide, **SFW (besides those warning), unrevised**

"Were you born cruel or did someone break your heart too?" 

"You're insufferable." 

"I would cross the Atlantic before I married you, Lord Hux."

"I require an heir."

"Then I require to be free of your presence." 

_A door slamming._

_A split lip. Blood on the tiles. A quiver in the voice._

"Do you know who I am? You might as well be another species." 

_A lifetime of glances gone unnoticed. Too shy. Too afraid of rejection. Too scared of a shattered heart._

_The pretty woman who owned the bakery next to his work. She was much too pretty for him. Too nice. He wouldn’t make her happy. He’ll settle for seeing her every morning for the coffee that she started right as she saw him come through the door. Settle for hearing her giggle when he decided to catch her off-guard by ordering something different._

_The nice vet who took care of Millie. But then Millie died and he couldn’t bear to get a new cat._

_The lady doctor who he miffed when he called her nurse._

_The accountant he yelled at. It wasn’t even her fault._

_That woman he saw the one time he had to take the train to work._

_Passing by one another without even realizing it._

_The wrong string of words. She's gone._

_When he came back, she was gone._

_When she came back, he was gone._

_They never met._

_They met, but it wasn't the right time._

_His father forbade him._

_Her father thought he was trouble._

_He missed their date for work._

_He missed their wedding for work._

_He missed their whole relationship for work._

_He was her boss and he couldn't have a relationship with an employee._

_She couldn't drag herself out of her abusive relationship._

_He got a girl pregnant and had to do the right thing._

_He shouldn't have smoked so much._

_He was always a sickly child, he made a sickly adult too._

_His father drank more than usual. That meant he hit harder than usual. He didn't wake up this time._

_He shouldn't have gotten into the car with his father, but he had no choice._

_It started sweet, then they struggled, then it was over._

"Would you rather I had died?" 

"Yes."

_He didn't know someone so small could be full of so much blood._

"She weighed so little, it was more like she strangled herself than broke her neck in the fall." 

"She was afraid of water, she couldn't swim well, she knew what she was doing." 

_They never found her body but he knew he'd never see her again._

_He didn't visit her when the hospital called. He could've said goodbye, but he didn't._

_Too little, too late._

_She sent letters, but he never answered. When he finally got the courage, there was no point._

"Maybe in some other life, we will be happy. We get the little house with the garden where we have our morning tea. The room full of books, the garage where you obsess over some project and I have to remind you to eat. The sun shines and the birds sing and at night we sit on the porch listening to the insects and the frogs and watch the fireflies flicker. The smell of meals and the fireplace in winter, lying naked on the bed with the fan on to escape the summer heat. 

This is all worth it, for that life. I will wait for you there. 

I love you, Armitage, more than anything in all these lives. 

Goodbye, I hope to see you soon." 

Tears felt hot on his cheeks. He could feel himself shaking, his breath ragged whenever he realized he wasn't breathing in the first place. For a moment he forgot where he was. Outside the window was the twinkling of stars. The floors were black, polished to mirror-shine. He remembered that he liked things neat, orderly, clean. In their place. Knowing their place. And his place was at the top. 

Currently his place was looming over someone else, someone smaller, someone who was also crying. He didn’t know why, couldn’t figure out why he was crying. He got the feeling he didn’t cry often, that he wasn’t crying a moment ago. No one else was around, they were the only two objects in the long hallway. He could hear the hum of electricity or engines. The hum of power. He loved that sound. He didn’t love the sound of her sobbing. Who was she? Did he make her cry? He made a lot of people cry. Made them angry. Hurt. Small. Worthless. Useless. Insignificant. 

“Would you be happier if I was gone?” Her voice was so quiet and small he almost didn’t hear it. But he remembered hearing that question before, in a million ways, in a million lives. That’s why he was crying, why his hands were shaking in their leather gloves. Why for a moment he’d stood stock-still, left his body, and lived a million lifetimes. Why he felt like he was something unreal in a very real moment. She gathered herself enough to turn to leave. He grabbed her arm. He couldn’t feel the fabric of her coat and that bothered him. So he took her hand and brought it to his face, where he could touch her coat, her shirt cuff, her skin to his own. She smelled like sweet flowers. The earthy scent of leaves, sweat, and wheat. Warm bread. Blood and fire. Cold steel and fresh linens. Silk handkerchiefs and leather boots. Old books, oil, ink pens. Fresh-cut grass. Rain. Grilling meat and salty seas. Fur and antiseptic. Coffee, tea, whisky. 

“I’ve only ever been happy when I’m with you.” 


	10. 44830 minutes and 40 seconds [Hux/Aneirin]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request Prompt: Hux bugging Aneirin for sexual attention, homeboy is frustrated **(Not Really NSFW, but about sex, unrevised)**

It’d been a while. 

31 Standard days. 

31 days, 3 hours.

747 Hours.

747 Hours, 5 minutes. 

44820 minutes and 24 seconds. 

25 seconds. 

26\. 

He remembered the dry way she laughed when he said it’d been 747 hours since they’d last had sex. She was furiously writing in a paper notebook, eyes trained on information scrolling down her data terminal. Normally the sight of her working, wearing those little glasses to avoid eye-strain, ink smudges on her hand from her pen and on her face where she scratched it, her hair down because the bun started giving her a headache, had him amused but now it had him frustrated. Whatever she’d been working on had brought his life to a slow halt. At first he thought it might just be a week, maybe two… “What’s so funny about that?” 

“747 was a model of ancient aircraft. Thought that was funny. I dunno, honey.” She was always a wealth of useless knowledge, though whenever he said that, she said it wasn’t useless if someone found interest in it, and there was a museum for almost anything on her planet. That didn’t matter now, that wasn’t the point. It’d been 44821 minutes since he’d last got to be intimate with her and he was desperate. 

“Love, please, it’ll be quick-” 

“You’ve never been quick, Armitage.” 

“That’s for your benefit. Please, when you’re finished with this project, I’ll repay you. But I need you.” He couldn’t believe he was begging and it wasn’t part of some power play. General Armitage Hux was actually begging her for sex. 

“I’m busy, if I stop, I’ll be distracted for hours.” She didn’t even look at him. So he made her. He got down on his knees in front of the table she was working at so she’d have to see him. 

“Please.” The small desperate voice didn’t seem like his, but it was. It got her attention, blue eyes questioning him over the rim of her glasses. “I need you. I know you’re doing something very important, I know it means more to you than some commendation or a congratulations from the Supreme Leader, that there are lives at stake and those lives mean so much more than mine but-” 

“They don’t mean more than your life, e-” 

“Every life is equally precious, I know, love, listen. I will put this in terms you understand: I’m distracted from my work and you are very obviously overworking yourself. You’ve always valued our health, we agree on wanting people to be at their best… I think we’ll both work better if you take this break, come to bed with me, and after you’ll have a nice long rest.” He’d never had to convince someone before, usually he just ordered them, but if she really didn’t want to do what he wanted, no amount of yelling and threatening would make her do it. He had to play on her terms. 

44830 minutes and 40 seconds. 

41 seconds.

42 seconds. 

5 minutes of kissing and undressing. 

10 minutes of touching. 

13 minutes 58 seconds to her shouting his name. 

2 seconds for him to groan ‘I love you so much’ in her ear.

1 second for him to say ‘I told you so.’ 

7 hours 30 minutes and 20 seconds until she woke up. 

For 5 days he didn’t restart his count. 

He only made it to 10 days, 2 hours, and 9 seconds before she told him they were having her favorite for dinner. 


	11. What the Cat Dragged In [Hux/Aneirin]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request Prompt: Hux captures a gnome for Anierin and she's like "PUT THAT THING BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM, SO HELP ME"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold is emphasis, Italics is Corsairan  
> SFW, unrevised

**Hux needed something big to give her;** she got so many gifts, most of them very expensive, from grateful patients that he didn’t know what to get her anymore. He spent all of his inherited money on her necklace and he prided himself on that whenever she had the opportunity to wear it, but he hadn’t gotten to see her face when she opened the box. He needed her to be excited again. That need clouded his judgement. 

“Hux! What the **fuck**?!” She was furious. He hadn’t been expecting that. He looked down at the little creature in the box with confusion, then back up to her. 

“I thought you would like it. You have all those images of them. This one seemed particularly… adorable.” He wasn’t sure how one found these little things ‘cute’ but she did, so he was trying his best. She’d preferred a certain type so the one that looked closest must be one she’d love the most.

“Hux,” she said sharply, as she picked the quivering little thing out of the box and cradled it against her chest. Its little hands grabbed at her waistcoat and he heard it mumble something in its little language that sounded vaguely like her own. Now that they were together she only said his last name if they were in public or she was angry with him. She was definitely angry. “Hux, they aren’t to be kept. They’re sentient beings that have homes and families and responsibilities. Christ, you stole a **baby**.”

His pretty plush pink lips parted and horror slowly registered on his face. He couldn’t identify them, they were all small, all decidedly… samey. “I just… I wanted to make you happy… I picked the cutest one.” 

“ _Oh sweet thing, it’s okay, I’ll get you home_ and this jerk is going to be punished, and not in the fun way.” He recognized that tone and some of those words as being soothing, but they quickly turned to a fierce sharpness that made his blood run cold. He felt ashamed. Guilty. 

“I’ll take it back to where I found it.” Green eyes refused to meet hers, staring at her shoes. He involuntarily made a pathetic noise as his throat closed up with impending tears. He practically whispered “I’m so sorry.” 

She sighed, the wind taken out of her sails. He had to really fuck up for her to keep being mad with him when he got to the whimpering stage of an argument. “Come on. You know you fucked up. Let’s get him back to his family.” 

He led her to the part of the forest where he’d captured the little gnome, an opening in the thick forest where the sun brought life to some beautiful wildflowers. While she went about finding the tree the gnome lived in, talked to its family, he sadly picked some flowers into a bouquet. The way the little things cowered when he came to stand behind her broke his heart, but he still crouched down to give the flowers to what he assumed was the mother. There was some back and forth in a dialect he didn’t understand but apparently all was forgiven as they waved goodbye and went back into their home. 

On the way back to their house, her hand slipped into his. “I appreciate the thought, Armitage. But that was a really dumb move.” 

“I’ll get you one of those dogs you like.” 

“You hate dogs, your father had one.” 

“I don’t hate them, I’m just afraid of them. My father made those dogs awful. You’d have a nice one.” She squeezed his hand. When they passed the pond at the back of their property she shoved him in. 

“Two dogs.”


	12. Sun Tzu [Hux/Aneirin]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you wait by the river long enough, the bodies of your enemies will float by.” ― Sun Tzu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW, unrevised

She didn’t ask for much. An interest in each other’s lives, making time even if it was just to sleep in the same bed or have tea, some consideration.

Dinner together every once and a while.

Skin contact.

Intimacy.

Sex.

She couldn’t remember the last time they just held each other let alone made love. Not even a quick thing in a supply closet or an exam room or, Stars forbid, her office. Usually after a few days he was pawing at her, kissing her neck how she liked it, hands on her waist, rubbing himself against her… She got carried away in the thought while filling out some forms and that’s how she knew it’d been too long. She closes out all of her work quickly and jogged to his quarters, where of course he was not but was an easy first stop. Then the officer’s mess but if he wasn’t sleeping then he definitely wasn’t eating, or all things to neglect.

That left his office or the bridge. Which she stomped onto with a fire rarely anyone saw; it sent Lieutenant Mitaka skittering away when he came to have one of their pleasant little chats. He wasn’t there, so she went into his office, where he’d obviously been practically mainlining caf and inhaling a worrying amount of cigarettes, one in between his lips at that very moment as he did his reports. Always the fucking reports. He looked tired and the fact that he also looked greasy, the smell of his skin overpowering the smell of his aftershave and the lotion she’d given him, meant he was spiraling into a place she’d had to drag him out of before. Why did they have to keep doing this?

“Hey!” Green eyes were affronted as she plucked the black cigarette from his mouth and dropped it decidedly in his mug of coffee with a sizzle.

“I’m taking you to your quarters. You look awful.” She tried snatching his datapad away but he was stronger, had a longer reach, and anticipated her action. He made a dismissive gesture.

“I’m busy.”

“You’re always busy.”

“I was going to my quarters after my shift.”

“That’s in 6 hours! This has been just one long shift!”

“What do you care?” She stamped her foot and he flinched slightly. He went to retrieve his silver cigarette case.

“I want to fuck my boyfriend but he’s a sweaty chainsmoking caffeine addict that won’t stop working long enough to have a fucking meal with me!” It felt good to get that out but it only seemed to faze him a little. He at least thought better of lighting another cigarette.

“It can wait.” He took his datapad firmly and got up to leave. She blocked his path with her short but sturdy frame, but he pushed her aside on his way to the door.

“But I can’t!” He hesitated and turned slightly to look at her curiously. She made a split decision and took off her coat, throwing it onto his desk. “For every ten minutes you don’t come back in here to fuck me on that couch, I’ll take an item of clothes off. Socks are a pair.”

“If you want to get caught naked in my office by some ensign or technician then be my guest.” He turned and left. Unbeknownst to her, he was distracted by the thought of how brazen she was being for once.

She hadn’t exactly expected to be actually naked on his couch by the time he would come back. One of the ensigns had come in when she was still in her underwear and quickly darted back out. She suspected him of sending the young man in on purpose, but that didn’t matter; she was determined. She could be stubborn too. When 30 minutes had passed from the ensign coming in, the door swished open, only for her to be greeted by the masked figure of Commander Ren. She threw up her hands in exasperation. “Oh, come on!”

“So it was true.” The man, the 6-foot-something tower of pure muscle, Force bullshit, and rage issues crossed his arms and stared at her from behind the dark visor. She took a pillow off the couch and covered herself with it like he hadn’t already seen most of what there was to see. “He’s very much not going to come in here.”

She huffed and scrunched her face up in thought. “I could walk out onto the bridge.”

“That might not go as planned. There could be… consequences.”

“Since when has Commander Ren cared about consequences?” The man shrugged.

“You care about them. He cares about them.”

“Right. So-“ She caught sight of him wiggling his fingers, probably to relieve some strain from training. “Give me one of your gloves.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll give it back. I’ll wash it first.”

“What are you going to do with it that you- oh, gross! No!”

“Not him, me.”

“Oh, well, that’s different.” He proceeded to take off his left glove. “He’s gonna be pissed.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for. Be sure to be rude about it on your way out.” She took the glove, brushing his hand as she did so and she didn’t like how it felt. She really needed this to go well. Getting the desk chair into position she sat down propped one foot up on the desk’s edge, slipped on the much-too-large glove, and began touching her skin with it, making a trail to between her legs. If Kylo was interested he didn’t let on. She heard a modulated laugh.

“What do I get in return?”

“You have one free ‘shut up, doctor’ pass.”

“Deal.” She manages to stuff one finger inside herself as he walked out the door. On the other side the Sith Lord caught the General’s attention, giving him a rude gesture with his naked fingers. It didn’t take long for the office door to open again.

“What are you doing?!” His voice was shrill and his face was red, hands clenched, body rigid, and under the uniform his cock was decidedly hard. She just let out a soft moan before licking her wetness off the glove, maintaining sharp eye contact as she did so. His jaw threatened to shatter teeth.

“Getting your much-need undivided attention.”


	13. "Give me a chance" [Hux/Aneirin]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: “can you write 1 from trashyabi's prompt list for ani and armie? thanks!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SFW, unrevised

“Please.”

“I said ‘no.’ End of discussion.”

Armitage involuntarily made a pathetic noise in the back of his throat. It got her attention. “I know I fucked up.”

“I’d say.” He’d royally fucked up. The thought that he was ‘preparing’ for sitting on the throne by finding the most magnificent ways to ruin everything made her snort. “It’s done, it’s over.”

“I’m sorry, from the bottom of my cold dead heart, I’m sorry.” He took one of her hands delicately in his. It felt wrong for his gloves to be in the way, he needed their skin to touch, so he took one off before holding hers once more. Aneirin’s hands were always so warm somehow and despite his gloves his were always so cold. But not when they held hers. “Please. Give me a chance. I’ll make it up to you.”

“I can accept that we’re in the middle of a war and you can’t just sever yourself from work, that’s okay. You really tried to keep your eyes off your datapad and I appreciated that.” The look of hopefulness on his face at her praise pulled a string in her heart. “But you called my home planet a pathetic backwater and everyone who lives there are useless idiots living in the past.”

Shame turned his ears red and he stared at where their hands were cupped together, so he didn’t have to look at the anger in her eyes anymore than he already had. “I regret saying that, no amount of anger and frustration can allow me to say such things. Your planet is beautiful and it’s people are very strong and convicted. There are plenty of places to get kyber crystals, I should’ve moved on.” 

It was very rare that Armitage teared up: out of happiness when his father died, out of fear when Millicent was ill, out of pure joy when she told him she loved him for the first time. Now, out of shame and repentance. He held her hand to his warm soft lips and squeezed his eyes tight to keep from crying, the emotion evident in his voice. “I’ll do anything. Please. Just give me a chance.” 

“Okay, okay, I’ll give you a chance. Just please don’t cry, I don’t know if I could handle it.” She have a cry of surprise as two arms wrapped around her and held her tight. She felt a shift in weight. “Lift with the knees, Mr. Bad Back.”

“Thank you, Doctor. It helps that you’re so light.” His smile always dazzled her when it reared its lovely face. She couldn’t keep from pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“You could always work out with Ren and Phasma.” 

“Kriff, have you seen how much they eat? No thank you.” 


	14. How One Became Four [Millicent Drabble]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The origin story of Millicent the Savannah Cat. SFW, unrevised

If there was anything General Hux was at any given moment and if there was anything he was never going to admit, it was that he was lonely. With vehemence he would dispel any notion that to come home to empty quarters weighed heavy on his heart, presuming the phantom organ representative of the softer emotions to be long dead and shriveled up. The last thing he’d ever admit was that, when his chief medical officer came to tell him she’d be gone for a few days to retrieve an animal from her home planet citing some sort of ‘emotional support’ function, he was ultimately jealous. An innocent little life, a life whose purpose was to cheer people up and offer an impartial deaf ear, was going to follow her around and depend on her for love and survival.

It came as some surprise when she arrived with two animals. Very different animals. One stood at half her height, obediently following her with a long face, and he was surprised at how thin it was. Briefly he thought that it must make her think of him. That was preposterous. The other was half that other animal’s height, a much smaller face, and a rich luxurious coat of spotted fur. It must’ve been the more likely to run off, for she had it on a harness and leash even though it seemed to be quite tame albeit curious. When she came to a halt in front of him, the larger animal sat down and looked up at him with big brown eyes while the other inspected his boots. “I thought you were only getting one… ‘dog.’”

“Well, first off, this” she pointed to the larger animal “is a dog and this” she indicated the other animal “is a cat.”

He watched with growing fondness as the ‘cat’ was very much interested in him. “So then why pray tell did you get a cat?”

“Well, she’d been socialized with my new little friend and…” his quirked eyebrow told her to continue. “She made me think of you. I thought you might want the company. They’re very smart and loyal, though they’re very energetic, we’ll have to find some way to keep her from getting bored. The people who raised these two said they were perfect for wearing each other out.”

Somehow the tight feeling in his chest wasn’t alarming to him. The pain in his throat was a weakness he could forgive. Very carefully he crouched down to introduce himself to the cat, taking off a glove so she could smell him. “Hello there. Aren’t you beautiful?”


	15. Blind Date [Hux/Aneirin] [Modern AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: General  
> Warnings: None  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC)  
> Pairing: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character  
> Tags: AU: Modern  
> Words: 1214  
> Published: 2018-07-19, Revised: 2019-04-21  
> Summary: Hux is put up on a blind date that turns out much differently than he thought.

Armitage Hux _never_ got stood up. He didn’t even know why he agreed to a blind date but at least he got to go to his favourite restaurant in the heart of the vibrant city. They had his favourite whisky, his steak was always perfectly cooked, and the waitstaff knew to not needlessly chatter at him. He swirled the ice of his second drink, the cool melt mixing with what few amber drops clung to the glass, as he contemplated the fact that he had, in fact, been stood up.

He didn’t know that a block away his date had their hands wrapped around a cyclist’s broken leg, calmly talking to them as she helped keep the man alive while an ambulance came. In her mind, Doctor Aneirin Pritchard was just in the right place at the right time for a car to hit the poor man, breaking his leg so that the bone splintered through muscle and skin. Eventually, the police and the ambulance came, she stayed long enough to help the EMTs get the injured man into the truck and give a statement. Checking her bloodied watch, Aneirin saw that she was more than 30 minutes late to her date and, looking at herself, covered in at least a litre of blood. To go home to shower and change would mean another hour and she had no phone number to call so that she could beg the man for his forgiveness and explain the situation. So her only hope at timely forgiveness, unable to live knowing she’d snubbed someone by helping another, was to still rush off to the restaurant. The hostess and some lingering guests gave her shocked looks but a clear ‘saved a life, I’m a doctor’ earned nods of approval.

Armitage flicked his green eyes up to the front of the building when he heard a commotion and watched in horror as the hostess pointed at him from across the room. The woman who had caused the fuss, covered in splashes of dark blood, face so perfectly the image of sincere apology that Michelangelo could’ve carved her from marble, approached his table.

“I’m _so_ sorry. I promise that I’m normally very punctual. However, someone decided to hit a cyclist and, well,” her voice trailed off as she indicated her appearance. “You’re very obviously an angry 10 and I’m currently a disgusting 4, so I apologize that this night has been doubly ruined for you. I’m not sure I trust the judgement of whoever thought we should meet. I know you’re more than capable of paying for it but let me cash out your check, for the principle of the thing.”

He listened to her with scrutiny, his eyes watching the stains seep into new parts of her clothing, how she was the type of woman to wear a suit and not a dress or skirt to a date. Then he saw the hospital badge attached to the inside of her jacket and it all made sense. She could really chatter but it came off as nervous and she’d obviously just been in a high-stress situation. The redhead pointed at the chair in front of him and raised his glass to get the attention of a waiter to refill his drink. “You will have a drink with me, at least.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t. I’m covered in blood, people are obviously freaked out. I’m really sorry, I should really go home to shower, I’m a biohazard.” The chair seemed to move of its own volition as she turned to leave.

“ _Sit._ Drink.” His voice was clipped and harsh, his eyes reflecting the command. Armitage stared unblinking until she took off her jacket to throw it over the back of the chair he intended her to sit in and looked at their approaching waiter apologetically.

“Okay. One drink. And I’m washing my hands first.” Aneirin looked up at their waiter’s plain young face. “I apologize _greatly._ I won’t be long, just... a Lagavulin 16, please. Neat.” She excused herself to find the restroom and take care to wash her hands and face clean of the offending sticky liquid.

Armitage sat with his new drink, waiting for her to return and his meal to arrive. He hadn’t bothered ordering something for his date, he had to agree that she did need to go home to clean herself, but Hux did _not_ get stood up under _any_ circumstances. So when she sat down he put his drink on the carved wooden coaster and looked up at her ‘as clean as can be’ face. “I’m an ‘angry 10’?”

Aneirin sat trying to touch as little as possible but the chair would have to be wiped down anyway. Delicately she picked up her glass and sipped it, swirling it around in her mouth before swallowing smoothly. Her cheeks would glow pink if they weren’t already mottled with the exertion of saving someone’s life. “I’m sorry, I just meant... you’re very handsome and I can’t stand when people are angry with me.” 

“And you’re a disgusting 4. I can see where the disgusting comes from, but you really have such a low opinion of yourself?” His salad was put in front of him with no fuss and he picked up his fork primly like a musician picking up their instrument.

“I’m a realist. Rather, I would feel better putting myself down than hearing someone else say it first.” The blonde cleared her throat after another sip of her drink. “I’m plain, short, and I’m not the kind of woman who dresses up, wears makeup, or cares about her appearance more than making sure her hair is combed, teeth brushed, and skin clean and moisturized. Around here I’d certainly call that a 4.”

The redhead scoffed before taking a bite of his food. He waited until it had completely passed from his mouth before he speaks. “Some would call that natural beauty and some would prefer someone low maintenance. Concerned just enough that it could be considered healthy and not vanity.”

She was taking a sip when he spoke and she choked on the burning liquid. “I’m sorry, are you trying to say that such a person is _you_?” 

Armitage waited to finish his bite again, staring into her blue eyes intensely. He could see her trying to reconcile what to do with this potential piece of favourable information. “Not knowing the peoples involved in the accident you stopped and selflessly tried and, as far as you know, succeeded to save a man’s life without a second thought, ruining what is probably in the top five of your nicest outfits. Not knowing me you came to this restaurant hoping I would still be here so you could apologize for being late and, also without knowing me, you were ready and willing to pay for my meal because you believed it the right thing to do. Unlike any other woman, you’d rather be candid about your opinion of yourself, not looking for a sympathetic compliment. Also... you ordered a rather nice, but cheap for someone like me, Scotch whisky. So you have taste while also being considerate of my wallet even though _I_ insisted you stay for a drink.” 

“Oh, I’m paying for that drink.” 

“No, you’re not.”


	16. Kylo Ren/Aneirin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can have half."  
> Anon request: “hii! can you do 11 from ways to say “i love you” list? :) Kylo/Ani”  
> SFW, Unrevised
> 
> Those Damn Lips  
> Request Prompt: #66 "Staring At The Other’s Lips, Trying Not To Kiss Them, Before Giving In"  
> SFW, Unrevised
> 
> Bought Two  
> Request Prompt: Kylo+Ani #34 "That's Okay, I bought two."  
> SFW, Unrevised
> 
> Kissing for the Enemy  
> Request Prompt: 17 "kissing to hide from the bad guys" with Kylo and Aneirin.  
> SFW, unrevised

**"You can have half."**

“God, I don’t know how you can eat so much.”

Kylo scoffed from across their hotel room, leaning back in a chair with his big booted feet propped up in the table absolutely covered in food containers. “I have to, you know physiology.”

They shared a room because he didn’t trust her to take care of herself. They were on this mission together because apparently it took two to apprehend rogue Force users who were making people’s lives decidedly harder. She was chosen because said Force User liked to poke around in people’s heads and she was immune. “I said how you can not why. It’s like it’s immediately burned up in your stomach.”

“Well, you’re tiny, of course you couldn’t eat as much as me. You have to maintain that dainty figure.” She smacked a massive bicep as she passed him on the way to the bathroom.

“I am not dainty.” He grinned; Kylo loved making her angry, it was a rare occurrence. The mild-mannered Doctor was, however, conscious about her looks whether she wanted to admit it or not. He regretted not being able to poke around in her head himself in order to see what she thought about.

“You’re right, you’re just the right amount of thick.” The look she shot him before shutting the bathroom door was so sharp it could’ve cut diamonds. He laughed to himself and continued eating.

As they spent the day looking for their target, he took note that she refused to eat much, practically nothing. Aneirin was being stubborn and trying to prove a point about this food argument. Though, when dinner rolled around and he sat with his big plate of food, he finally noticed how pale she was. Being in the sun these past few days had given her skin a surprising tan, so now it was strange to see it lose color, dark circles under her eyes. He realized, idiot that he was, that this was his opinion about her body making her refuse to eat, not some silly argument about food. That’s not what he’d intended to happen. “Eat something.”

“You can’t order me around, Ren.”

“I like the way you look. I wasn’t making fun of you. I just like teasing you.” Her mouth fell open in shock and he wanted to lean across the table to kiss her, but he didn’t, because he was stupid. He noticed her attention shift to one of his dishes as she tried to refuse giving in to his demand and charm. So he slid the plate over to her. “You can have half.”

She picked up an extra fork and delicately started eating, a small smile on her face. It was one of his more liked foods on this planet and it was difficult to separate Kylo Ren from his favorite food.

* * *

**Those Damn Lips**

“Ow.” 

“Don’t be a baby.” The Doctor dabbed at the cut on the big hand again, causing it to flinch away. “I’m trying to be gentle, should I stop being gentle?”

“You should just stop.” The Commander detested being prodded and coddled and that was exactly what she was doing. He received a forceful placement of a bacta-patch in return. “What happened to ‘do no harm?’”

“You forgot about ‘take no shit.’ Now hold still.” Bacta tasted absolutely horrible so when it came to his split lip she pulled out her trusty canister of ointment that at least didn’t taste terrible on a bad day. With careful attention she worked it into those… pouty… plush… delicious… She realized she was staring at his lips and when she looked up into his eyes, he was staring slightly down at her own lips. Teeth had been worrying at the edge of her bottom lip, making it red and puffy. 

He stared as she at least came slightly to her senses and stopped making herself more desirable. But he still stared. Brought his own thumb up to mimic her. She didn’t flinch away because she was watching as he moved his lips around to help her ointment sink in. His breathing got perceptibly heavier, more ragged, more… interested. As if he was trying to hold back. 

She felt a huge injured hand gently touch the curve of her waist before slipping to the small of her back, pulling her in against his chest. Brown eyes dared her to make the first move, but she had an iron will, she’d seen a lot of things in her time. Fingertips found the notches in her spine and traced their way up to between her shoulders, bending her forward slightly. Her blue eyes were still trained on his lips. The only thing that got her to look up from them was his other hand softly cupping her face. 

She didn’t know he could make a sound so intimate, so needy, as their lips came together. It was impossible for hers to escape, but she found she didn’t want to. Instead her gloved hands rested on his exposed chest, feeling his heartbeat and the warmth of his skin. She has no choice but to be enveloped by him. And she let it happen. 

* * *

**Bought Two**

The problem with having a girlfriend was that Kylo felt like he was constantly losing laundry. Sweatshirts and jackets, shorts and sweatpants, even his damn socks. Don’t get him started on the number of shirts he’d never see again. It was unfair that it was physically impossible for him to steal her things in retaliation, seeing as she was about a third his size. He’d made the mistake of asking once why she took them all the time: they were comfier, warmer, and the cute cherry on top was that for a few days, depending on how much he’d worn the article before it was the victim of theft, it smelled like him. Hoodies and sweatshirts were apparently the best because they kept more of his natural scent, taking quite a few wears before he deemed them worthy a wash. 

When one is 6’2” and about 200 pounds of muscle, their shirts tend to look like dresses on tiny 5’ girlfriends weighing about “I’m not telling you that” pounds. Perfect for mornings after when she walks to the kitchen. Perfect for when she gets up on her tiptoes to reach for a box of cereal or a bowl, because it just barely rides up enough for him to get the smallest peek at where her strong thick thighs meet that adorably round butt that makes her self-conscious and drives him crazy. Those shirts are perfect for when he can’t stand it anymore and lifts her effortlessly onto a counter, table, wall, because he doesn’t have to do anything other than get himself free of the underwear he threw on to be ‘decent’ in his own damn apartment before he can fuck her brains out for daring to look so damn cute in his band tees. 

He liked getting his clothes back because they’d smell like her, but he’d never admit that once he shoved his face in a shirt she’d returned because she was leaving for the weekend and he missed her. Whenever she was over and did his laundry, without him asking he would add, he’d come home to find his laundry refolded in a way that made much more sense but he didn’t have the patience for. His favorite thing was to come home to find her curled up in his couch in his clothes having fallen asleep watching TV while waiting for him. When he’d pick her up to take her to bed, she’d be snuggly and warm. Kylo always ran a little hot but she was a radiator when asleep and he’d wrap himself around her like a snake stealing her warmth. 

He once thought he’d outsmarted her by buying her a smaller sweatshirt of her own. That hadn’t worked, she very much wanted his shirt. A smaller shirt wasn’t as comfortable and didn’t carry the same sentiment as a stolen boyfriend shirt. So he finally got smart. 

“I’m sorry, I know I keep taking your clothes home.” This time when she came around she had his newest hoodie in her arms, having obviously taken it and returning it cleaned. He just smiled and took it from her. 

“That’s okay.” He scooped her up into his arms and over his shoulder as if she was no more than a sack of flour. She squealed in excitement and a little bit of fear, but she was soon deposited on the bed, expecting to be ravaged but not getting it. He put the clean hoodie down on top of his dresser and picked something up off the back of his desk chair. “I bought two.” 

He’d made sure to wear it so it smelled like him, and while she was enjoying it he would wear the other one. She looked up at him in adoration.

And then he ravaged her. Afterwards she stole his hoodie to grab them beers from the fridge. 

* * *

**Kissing for the Enemy**

Walking through the city streets, she had the distinct feeling she was being followed. Aneirin was in plainclothes and hadn’t gone anywhere that gave away her position as a First Order Officer. She’d come to investigate rumors of an advanced disease outbreak that could threaten the health of half the galaxy if it started spreading unchecked. Her mind raced as she considered the possibility that she was being followed because someone didn’t want her to know the truth. What the truth was she didn’t know, but it couldn’t be good. As a doctor she wasn’t exactly trained for evasion or intelligence gathering, though she did extensive self-defense training. Just not against a group of people about twice her size. She also wasn’t very familiar with the planet and in the twists and turns of trying to lose her tail, she ended up in a less crowded and thus less favorable location. 

So she broke out into a sprint. She could hear footsteps behind her but she managed to round a corner and she was hoping for somewhere to hide when something came out of the dark, like the shadow of the building itself reached out to take her arm and pull her into the alcove of a doorway. She had no choice but to be pressed against the cold wall and a pair of lips enveloped hers, her eyes tightly shut. She froze in place, her hands resting on a warm chest that she could feel its owner’s heartbeat through despite a rather thick layer of muscle. The person tasted like sugar and his smell was the distinct scent of sweat and leather, but not in a disgusting way. Their breath was even while she struggled to remember to breathe. One arm was leaning above her head while the other gloved hand was touching the side of her face gently. Footsteps rushed past and faded into the distance. 

The man pulled away and she finally opened her eyes. A pair of doe-brown eyes peered back at her and it took her a moment to realize it was none other than Kylo Ren. She suppressed a cry of outrage but she didn’t keep herself from punching him in the chest. He chuckled in that smug way that sent shiver down her spine against her wishes. “I just saved you, that’s the thanks I get?”

“You already got your kiss. Just you wait until Armitage hears about this.” He laughed again. 

“Maybe he’d like to watch next time.” 


	17. Long Distance [Hux/Aneirin] [Modern/Teenager AU]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request Prompt: #97 from [this list](https://imperator-titus.tumblr.com/post/176031971789/100-ways-to-say-i-love-you) "I’ll pick you up at the airport.”  
> SFW, Unrevised

“I’ve never been on a plane before, ya know.” 

They had met while he was studying abroad, she’d been his guide and her home was his for the year. He knew that she had an older stepbrother who was a year ahead of them, that both her fathers were bisexual and childhood friends, and that if Heaven was real then her mother was an angel because she was a social worker until she couldn’t leave her hospital bed. Hux knew that her biological father was huge and liked to joke about beating up his father, which he would have loved to see, he would’ve given anything for his father to have been even the tiniest bit like Mr. Reader. Kindness, emotional availability, and the desire to nurture were in short supply in the Hux household. 

He knew that he only had to say he didn’t like something once and the family would exclude it from his food or never bring it up from that point forward, and if they forgot in a moment of autopilot then they practically begged for forgiveness. He knew that Mr. Reader was the foreman of a construction company but he was quite the hobby pianist, something he wouldn’t have expected from a man so big. 

He knew that Aneirin’s favorite color was purple, that she wasn’t very girly, and she liked to work with her dainty hands, wasn’t afraid of getting dirty. He knew that she loved his hair, got lost in his eyes, and would cover him in hugs and kisses if he wasn’t doing anything. She wasn’t overly affectionate in public, which was okay with him, but they were practically inseparable at home. He knew that she had a pretty smile, was self-conscious about her strong legs, and was the cutest when she didn’t know someone was looking, because she’d dance and sing and say stupid jokes to herself. He knew that she melted when he kissed her neck and she could listen to him read the dictionary. He knew that she had a birthmark on her back and that he was going to miss her. 

“Oh? I would’ve thought you’d gone on some big adventure with your stepfather.” 

He knew that she was afraid of heights, was quiet until excited, and a bit of an introvert, which was fine because so was he. She was also afraid of water, especially the ocean, which was attributed to a near-death experience and a fear of the unknown, but he’d flown over the ocean so many times it didn’t even register. The waver in her voice told him this was quite the trip. 

“Where are you going?” 

He knew that she could find beauty in almost anything, even the ugliest dogs at the animal shelter, and her childhood dream had been to own a big farm where she saved every animal about to be euthanized, keeping them until they died or were finally adopted. He only learned this shortly before he had to go back home and so he cried a little more easily than he thought possible. 

“Oh, well, a college accepted me so I wanted to see it.” 

“I thought you were supposed to visit before you applied?” 

“It’s far away and it has a pretty big reputation, so i figures don’t spend the time and money to be potentially rejected.” 

“And what college is this?” 

“I can’t tell you that, Mr. Hux.” 

He knew that her laugh was adorable, especially when she snorted, and that she’d found it charming that he gave her his last name and then his first. That’s why she called him ‘Mr. Hux’ when he was being invasive. ‘Hux, Armitage Hux.’ Her personal James Bond. Her man of mystery who became much less mysterious as time passed. As they became wrapped up in each other and he got an awkward but ultimately benevolent discussion with her father.

“I have to go. Plane leaves early and it takes a billion years to get through security.” She had a little smile on her face and it made him smile too. Thank every god in existence for video calling, it was the only way he stayed sane for the past year. 

“Okay. Have a safe trip, I know you’ll be fine.” 

“I know. I’m just a scaredy cat.” They waved goodbye to each other before he shut the screen of his laptop, staring at the brushed-steel case sitting on his desk. He was glad he got to talk to her before she went on her trip. His father didn’t approve of his infatuation with a girl across the ocean, but his father was currently on a business trip, leaving him alone with the housekeepers and his stepmother who was at worse a little short with him. 

A few hours later he felt his phone buzz in his pocket while he was making himself dinner. His heart dropped because the most likely explanation was his father, either coming back early or with some complaint. But instead he was surprised to see it was Aneirin. She must’ve landed and wanted to tell him she was okay. 

Which is exactly what she was doing. With a picture. That he recognized the background was Heathrow. 

‘I’ll pick you up at the airport.’ 

‘Thanks, I love you too!’ 


	18. Let Me Drive [Hux/Aneirin] [Modern AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: General  
> Warnings: None  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC)  
> Pairing: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character  
> Tags: AU: Modern, Fluff  
> Words: 562  
> Published: 2018-07-21, Revised: 2019-04-21  
> Summary: Hux wants to drive away from all of his problems and ghosts with a special someone by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.  
> Request Prompt: #1 from [this list](https://imperator-titus.tumblr.com/post/176031971789/100-ways-to-say-i-love-you), "Pull over. Let me drive a while."  
> 

This was it. This was everything he’d dreamed of and more. This was what got him through his life under his father’s tyrannical rule. His goal for the past 4 years.

Armitage Hux bought the car with one purpose in mind: to drive as far away from home as possible. With her.

Aneirin Pritchard was perfectly capable of driving but he insisted. He wanted to be in control, _needed_ to be the one who was putting distance between them and a life he wished to forget.

They’d stop along the way, of course: to walk around beautiful parks, eat picnic lunches on green sunny hills or among shady forests, or eat a quick breakfast at their hotel and find a nice local place for dinner. Take pictures. Cuddle in big beds. Wake up next to each other.

He had a secret that he was worried about her finding. It burned a hole in his jacket pocket.

“Pull over. Let me drive for a while.” The redhead hadn’t realized he’d been spacing out until her voice broke him out of whatever spell he was under. So Armitage relented. They were taking a scenic drive through a forest park, so he pulled over at one of the little gravel lots that headed a trail. While the blonde was taking the time to stretch her legs and breathe some fresh air, his hand went into his jacket pocket.

He had bought the ring with one purpose in mind: to live the rest of his life in happiness. With her.

It was plain; Aneirin wasn’t a flashy person and he would’ve rather shown her his love by being respectful of her taste than to try showing it with a rock. It was platinum, because she didn’t like gold, and it was thin because she didn’t like the feeling of things on her hands. There were three stones embedded into it like little stars: an unassuming blue sapphire flanked by two smaller white diamonds. Of course, they’d been ethically sourced and the whole thing was handcrafted by a master jeweller because she deserved quality and detested suffering. On the inside was the inscription: ‘My heart and soul -A.H.’ along with the day they met.

He was broken from the spell again when she knocked on the glass of his window, a concerned look on her face. He got out and closed the door before she could get in.

“Armie, what’s wrong? Changed your mind about that walk?” Aneirin smiled up at him and it was the final nail in his coffin. In front of God, the birds, and a group of hikers he didn’t even know existed, he got down on one knee. Gravel dug into his bare knee, his legs hurt from sitting so long, his lower back was killing him, he was tired and hungry, but none of it mattered.

“What’s wrong is I’m not your husband.” Armitage didn’t get a chance to open the ring box, Aneirin had been staring into his eyes the whole time. He almost dropped it with the force of her sudden embrace, her lips on his, salty tears of joy finding his tongue. In the background, there was some cheering and shouts of encouragement. They reluctantly parted and he took out the band to place on her finger, but he was her entire world and she was his.


	19. Sorry I'm Late [Hux/Aneirin, Modern AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG  
> Warnings: Character Anxiety, Strong Language  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC)  
> Pairing: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character  
> Tags: AU: Modern, Fluff  
> Words: 1062  
> Published: 2018-07-23, Revised: 2019-05-05  
> Summary: Hux is an anxious mess as he realizes that his date has stood him up, but someone comes to save him from complete embarrassment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.  
> Request prompt: So... we've established anxiety ridden/low self esteem Hux seems to be my kink, can I request "Sorry I'm Late" (13) with Hux/Ani. Maybe the old trope where Hux has been stood up & Ani saves him from looking like a complete loser sat on his own.  
> From [here](https://imperator-titus.tumblr.com/post/176031971789/100-ways-to-say-i-love-you)  
> 

  
_Of course she’s not coming. Why would she want you, idiot._

Armitage spun his glass around in little circles, watching the ice slowly melt with barely-contained melancholy. He wasn’t stupid enough to think a woman he’d been on three dates with was ‘the one’ but at the very least she could do him the dignity of saying she wasn’t interested anymore so he wouldn’t show up to this dinner alone. 

  
_You’re meant to be alone, you skinny cunt. You were born without love and you’ll die that way too._

**But I don’t want to be alone. I want to be happy. Why do I need to be with someone to be happy?**

  
_Because you’re fucking worthless._

**Right, I’m worthless. Utter trash. No one has ever cared about me.**

  
_Your father hated you, he only kept you around to have an heir to his name. Your mother hated you so much she abandoned you as a baby, when you needed her most._

  
_No one will ever love you._

  
_You’ll die without knowing love._

  
_Your only use is your money and your connections._

  
_You’re just a tool._

  
_A fool._

  
_A mockery of a man._

He sighed and ordered another drink, deciding that he’d give her 10 more minutes. What was the harm in waiting? Maybe she was stuck in traffic or there was an emergency. After that, he’d order dinner for himself and go home.

  
_To cry like a little bitch. Probably want your nonexistent mother too. You were probably sprouted from the ground like some monster out of a storybook._

  
_No one likes monsters._

Aneirin was used to going out by herself; she hadn’t dated since col¬lege and had since lost the patience for finding someone, so she decided to show social standards the middle finger. Dinner, movies, zoos, muse¬ums, she did it all by herself when people around her thought the whole world would know they were a loser for being alone. What was wrong with wanting to not cook dinner every now and then?

But Fate had other plans. As her eyes instinc¬tively ran over the faces of diners while she waited to be seated, she saw someone that caught her eye. The red hair stood out, but the fact that he was alone, no second glass to prove another person had been with him, and the sad look on his handsome face was what drew her in. Aneirin wasn’t fooling herself that she was in this man’s ‘league’, but she always was a bleed¬ing heart. So she stepped away from the line of patrons waiting to have tables and confidently walked up to his booth that had a gorgeous view of the bay. “Sorry I’m late.”

Armitage looked up in surprise, his Cupid’s bow lips parting slightly. The voice wasn’t familiar and the woman was certainly new to him.

**Who- what?**

  
_She’s making fun of you, dumbass. Why would a pretty girl just talk to someone like you, you useless sack of_

“You’re not so mad at me that you’re going to make me go eat by myself, are you?” She smiled kindly at him and lowered her voice to a hush that only he could hear. “A gorgeous man like you shouldn’t be eating alone. I think there’s a law against it, or there should be.”

**Oh my Lord, she’s flirting with me. She saw that I was sad**

  
_A miserable drowned rat of a_

**And she came to rescue me. Is this real?**

“Of course not. I know it’s hard for you to get away.” He didn’t know a damn thing about her other than she was an angel of mercy, the radiance of her charity and kindness making her plain face beautiful. He watched as she shed her coat and placed it beside her on the booth bench. It didn’t occur to him what he would say if the original date showed up; as far as he could tell, he’d made his peace with that situation. The waiter came by with Armitage’s second drink and barely hid his sur¬prise that there was a second person.

“Hello, I’m sorry for the wait. Can I get a Long Island? Seems I have some catching up to do.” Aneirin flashed the young man a bright smile and it stayed up as she turned to her new companion, the waiter quickly going about his business. With complete confidence in her voice, she assured him, “Don’t worry, I like going Dutch.”

  
_That’s a lie, she’s looking for a free meal. That’s all you’re good for._

**I don’t even care, this is the best day of my life.**

“Get whatever you want. It seems that I owe you for saving me from some embarrassment.” Armitage cleared his throat after taking a sip of his drink. He was rarely ever nervous on the outside, usually maintaining complete control over himself as armour, but he found himself in uncharted territory. “Where’s _your_ date?”

“Oh, I don’t have one. I came alone.”

  
_Prowling for rich lonely men._

**Shut up for just one damn moment so I can be happy. Just once.**

Aneirin accepted her drink with perfect politeness and already had her order ready. He gave his as well. The short woman shrugged, seeming perfectly content to be having dinner with a complete stranger with no notice. “I eat alone a lot unless it’s a group thing. I’d decided that it’s okay to be alone and I refuse to be lonely for it. And look, it left me open to talk to you.”

**Yes, please talk to me.**

  
_Weak pathetic trash, she’s not interested in you._

“I was beginning to wish I had come with the intention of being alone. I'm not quite up to that level of aloofness yet, but I think I prefer that I looked sad enough for you to come over.”

  
_What a load of_

“Hey, it’ll make an interesting story.” Aneirin sipped her drink and picked at the bread on the table, making some comment about how good the restaurant made it. Armitage hadn’t exactly heard it, his mind elsewhere. He swirled the liquid in his glass and smiled as he watched the ice begin to melt, creating patterns where it didn’t mix.

“It will, won’t it?” 

**The story of how I met the love of my life.**

_You’re incapable of love you bastard._

**I didn’t ask you. Adults are talking.**


	20. The Storyteller [Hux/Ani]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request Prompt: "Can you write something where Ani tells Hux stories?"  
> SFW, unrevised

“Tell me a story.” 

Many conversations between them began this way; a long silence where they contemplated anything but each other, a firm request for her to recount something to him, and then another until he had to leave her presence. The two generals were enjoying a planet, sitting in the garden of the local ruler, sipping tea. They’d watched the flowers sway in the breeze as the native pollinators stuck their noses into the fluted petals.

“Well, there’s the story of Ewan, the man who discovered my village.” Hux was difficult to convince that almost all stories she told were considered to be true, he was ever the skeptic, but even Aneirin admitted that a story as old as this had little chance at being believable. A nod signaled that he would want to hear this story. 

“The god of the forests had created the first trees, of course, and chief among them was the yew. Despite her neighboring brothers and sisters, the yew was lonely, so she grew a fruit. When the fruit was ripe it fell off her branch and hit the ground. It split apart and in the center was a boy, Ewan, son of the yew. So the yew shed her leaves to cradle him and keep him warm, asked the other trees to bear fruit so that he might eat it-“

“That seems like cannibalism.”

“Hush.” 

“It came time that a dragon began to threaten the safety of the boy. So, the yew gave her life, her mighty trunk made into bow and arrows. With them, Ewan slayed the dragon and he stuck his bow into the grown. Where the dragon’s blood reached as it seeped out of its wounds, a forest of yews sprouted. The ancient people used the trees for their bows and woodworking, making sure to plant two for every tree they took. The forest has been burned several times by dragons and during war, but it has always come back. Currently it is the forest that stands between Finndale and the capital.”

“You have a story for everything, it seems.” Hux barely contained a smile for the sake of seeming unattached to anyone who had been watching. 

* * *

“Tell me a story.”

They’d been lying in bed, reading from their datapads, when Hux leaned over to rest his head on her shoulder. She kissed his forehead as she thought about the story to tell him.

“My mother used to say allegories a lot when I was little. One of them was ‘between the pines.’ It came from the tale of the forest god when he was making his first forest. He was excited, as anyone would be, and so he tried to fit as many trees into the area as possible. Unfortunately, if you know anything about trees, you can’t have too many too close together. So some withered, died, and fell over. The god was distraught, his hard work wasted and his carelessness having cost the lives of the trees.”

“They were just trees.”

“They were his children, hush. So he walked around the forest crying over the corpses and where his tears fell, flowers and ferns bloomed to life. The fallen trees and the god’s tears gave life to something new. Even when we make mistakes, something good can come, because we learn from those mistakes.”

* * *

“Tell me a story.”

They had been waiting for some time to hear from Captain Phasma regarding the discovery of a rebel spy, sitting in Hux’s quarters with nothing in particular to do. 

“So there was this dragon-“

“Dragons aren’t real, I’m not a child.” She swatted at him but they were nowhere near each other. 

“They are real, I met one.” His face screwed up in disbelief. “When you get to Corsaira, you’ll meet one too.”

“Fine, how did you meet this dragon?” He crossed his legs and propped his head up on a fist, leaning against the arm of his sofa. 

“It lives in the mountain by my village. I’d gotten lost on a hike and it helped me get home.”

“I’m sorry, a massive beast known for being cruel and vicious helped a little girl who was lost in the mountain?” 

She made a dismissive motion with her hand. “They’re not all that bad, just don’t touch their horde. So as I was saying, it let me ride it back to my village. And we gave it a steer as thanks.” 

Hux continued to hound her out of disbelief until finally they were allowed to leave his secured quarters. One photo album later and the man felt as if his world had been turned upside down. 

* * *

“Tell me a story.” 

Retirement held a lot of adventure, in its own right. No longer was there firefights or bombings, but it was a time of discovery and travel. That meant Aneirin had told many stories and she was finding it harder to think of something she hadn’t shared yet. So her face scrunched up in thought as she looked up at the star-speckled sky and a thought occurred to her. “Did I ever tell you of my first flight off of this planet?”

“No, I assume it was to go to Arkanis, given the nature of your childhood.” Hux sat beside her on the stone patio behind their home, their hands clasped together between their two chairs. He enjoyed the nights, they were cool and the air was fresh, the sounds of insects and amphibians echoing from the pond at the back of their property. 

“You know me too well.” She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. “I guess it’s not that interesting of a story; I threw up. I was so excited and terrified at the same time that the only way I could deal with it was to lose the nice breakfast I had that morning.”

“That is both disgusting and cute. Poor you. I’m sure that would be terrifying for someone who’d never been in space before.” He chuckled to himself. “I’m sure the officer didn’t appreciate it at all.”

“Oh, not at all, it got on his nice shiny boots.”

“Ugh, how did you manage to get to Arkanis in one piece?” 

“I don’t know, but I’m glad I did.” 


	21. Allergic to the Air [Hux/Ani]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux and Aneirin visit a planet and Hux doesn't have a good time.   
> SFW, Unrevised

If being visited by one general was an honor then being visited by two had to be a visit from god. Hux came to drum up resources while Doctor Reader inspected their botanical gardens for new plants. She was in their shared room admiring her flowering fern when he walked in, irritated. “What’s wrong? I thought it was going well?” 

“It’s like my skin is on fire!” He ripped off his clothing to more easily scratch at his skin. She caught sight of the rash forming and got up in a panic, trying to keep him from scratching more. Hux fussed like a petulant child but he was eventually subdued.

“What have you touched?” 

“Nothing! My gloves are always on! It just happened!” She didn’t touch him because she didn’t know what was on him, though it would’ve calmed him down. He almost seemed hurt when she stopped herself from putting a hand on his arm. “Make it stop!”

“Take a shower, ginger snap. I’ll have to get a test kit run over.” She called the hospital that was a few blocks away to request a kit that would allow her to check him for local known allergies. Through the door she could hear him making pathetic noises, whining and whimpering. She helped him get into a fresh set of underclothes and when the kit came she ran it, pricking him with different needles containing allergens and waiting to see which reacted. It was difficult, given that he was already covered in splotches and uncomfortably writhing on the bed. “I know, I know. As soon as I figure out what it is, I can help you.”

“You best find out what it is.” It was understandable, he wasn’t angry at her, just at the unfortunate situation. He sighed. “I’m sorry, this isn’t your fault. Kriff, my back itches!”

“That’s because everything reacted. That can’t be right…” She unsealed a sterile needle and made a poke in an unreacted spot. After a few seconds it turned red. “Okay, I don’t know what it is.”

A few hours of research and being whined at produced the answer: he was allergic to the air itself. The solution, until they were off-planet, was to cover his skin in a special lotion to protect the sensitive skin from the air. Aneirin of course had to help him with areas that he couldn’t reach on his own and she blushed at the relieved sounds that came out of Hux’s mouth. Eventually he let her apply the lotion everywhere, to make sure it was properly done, he reasoned. It lead to quite a few impassioned kissing sessions, but nothing more given the circumstances. They ended the trip early and it only took a few days for his reactions to go away. She was checking him over when he got her attention, looking into her eyes deeply. “Thank you. For everything.” 

“Of course. I couldn’t leave you like that. Poor pumpkin.” He pulled her back against his chest and rested his cheek on the top of her head. 

“I’ll just have to take you everywhere I go. For protection.” 


	22. Masks and Bonds [Kylo/Ani]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Teen and Up  
> Warnings: None  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Kylo Ren, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC)  
> Pairing (Vaguely): Kylo Ren/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s)  
> Tags: AU: Canon-Divergence  
> Words: 3748  
> Published: 2018-08-20, Revised: 2019-04-21  
> Summary: Aneirin is kidnapped from Corsaira to be trained as Kylo Ren's shadow, a shield against Force mind tricks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.

They’d come in the middle of the day, stole her right out of the field where she’d been playing. They came dressed all in black, no faces, like wraiths, robes swirling around them. When she woke up the world was dark and cramped, filled with the sound of mechanical hums. Faceless people dragged her through windowless hallways, threw her into a place that would become home, but it was no home. She was poked, prodded, shoved and squeezed by invisible forces, once even shocked by electricity. They told her to do things and became curious when she refused as if they expected her to do it without question. Somehow she’d been deemed useful to them for a reason she wasn’t sure of. 

Aneirin was sixteen when the Magi came around to see if anyone showed signs of the Earthbond; she would later learn that one of those Magi was secretly a Sith and that what her people called the Earthbond was known as the Force to the rest of the galaxy. What they had thought was something unique to their planet supposedly flowed through everything in existence and its flow manifested in an interesting fashion in her. That was why she was taken and put through brutal tests, some of which made no sense. It didn’t help that while she was familiar with Galactic Basic, she was far from fluent or even advanced, seeing as she had little use for it in a farming village. She was twenty before she saw the stars again as she was taken from the facility, cuffed to the seat beneath her in the cockpit of a shuttle. 

It wasn’t long after that that she met Kylo for the first time; at the age of sixteen, the boy was already taller than her, looming with intense and innate anger. By then she’d lost most of her extreme fear, but seeing him still had her bowing her head and lowering her eyes in submission, hoping against all hope to be spared of mistreatment. Kylo barely tolerated her presence, sneering when he saw her and scoffing at her poor command of his language. To say they trained together was a misunderstanding of the word ‘together.’ It was more like he had to put up with whatever task his instructor wanted to see done while she was around. It took several tries for their master to break through her manifestation of the Force to command his student to debase himself to her, kneeling before her and trying to resist touching himself through his robes before their master determined that the manipulation had worked. At some point, he’d become accustomed to wearing a masked helmet that only increased his intimidation of her but it did help her put the weird and uncomfortable things their master made him do out of her mind without his face to remind her. 

She was 22 when their master sent them on a mission together; they were to investigate and retrieve a possible new student. A special helmet had been made for her as well, one that contained her gift so that their master could speak to Kylo from far away. Aneirin didn’t mind because if she turned the vocoder off she could make whatever sound she wanted, to a point. He couldn’t see her face or most importantly her tears. As he reached his full height he towered over her, making her feel like a child, scared and small. Merely her presence was required and so as they would walk she would gather her cloak around her like a security blanket during a thunderstorm, her helmet thumping rhythmically against her leg where it was clipped to her belt. It became late and so they got a single room for the night to rest before heading out early. 

Kylo took up most of the bed so she knew she would have to sleep on the floor that night, but at the time he was sitting, meditating. She knew better than to interrupt him but her mind turned over things she saw in the city around them and old memories. When he started his habitual exercise regimen she spoke up. “Do you still have your parents?”

The young man shot a glare at her from across the room. “Unfortunately.”

“You don’t miss them?”

“No.” He grunted with the effort of pushing himself off the floor.

“I miss mine.” Kylo barked a sarcastic laugh. 

“I didn’t ask.” He stood up and glared down at where she sat on the edge of the bed with her helmet in her lap. “I don’t want to know you, you’re just a tool.”

While he was in the refresher cleaning the sweat off his skin in preparation for sleep, Aneirin put her helmet on to drown out the sound of her crying as she curled up in a corner that felt somehow safe, wrapping her black cloak around her. If he had known she was upset he didn’t show it, because he didn’t care. He was just thankful she found a way to contain her outbursts so that he didn’t have to deal with them. The next day they continued their mission and she didn’t speak again unless spoken to. So she lived life as Kylo Ren’s shadow. 

* * *

Aneirin had become accustomed to her master, though it never seemed as if his attitude towards her changed. She’d once wondered if it was a frustration with her passive ability or possibly there was some effect she had on him that she was unaware of. Somehow he managed to become stronger and the shadow he cast grew bigger, easily enshrouding her under the right circumstances. When she was left behind, her services not needed, she trained with their master’s praetorian guard with nothing much else to do but sit and wait. At some point Ren had refused orders to take her and, with her in earshot, he proclaimed her presence more of a nuisance and hindrance than helpful, deeming her ‘useless’ and ‘pointless.’ No amount of acclimating to his harsh personality made it any easier to be demeaned by him in such a manner, but she took no pleasure in seeing their master punish him for insolence. Like a concerned mother, she rushed to his side to help him after their master left, but she received a strong shove instead, one that would leave a bruise where his large hand made contact. Helmeted he couldn’t see how upset this had made her, but it wouldn’t have made a difference.

So she had accompanied him on his mission but seeing as he thought she would be of no use, she remained, for the most part, contained in her special apparatus and stayed in the cramped compartment of his _Silencer_ behind his pilot’s seat that had become her spot over the years. Sometimes she was charged with guarding it but ultimately Ren considered her not even capable of that, it was just something for him to tell her to do instead of following him around like a lost puppy. 

Their time together had brought them to a particularly watery planet and as she looked over the edge of the landing platform to the water not too far below, he’d sensed in her body language that she was filled with a nervous and fearful energy not much unlike what he felt when someone knew he was about to end their pathetic life. She hadn’t spoken to him in months and what little she had said was affirmations and relaying codes, but somehow she still managed to get under his skin even with that helmet on. He’d been annoyed beyond measure when the engineer had fashioned it to look much too similar to his own for comfort. So with a little manipulation of the Force he watched as she was pitched forward, made some useless attempt at pushing herself back to the platform, and he only barely caught the modulated sound of her yelling his name. There was a distinct splash and he waited at the edge of the platform for her to resurface but she never did. He sighed in annoyance and dived in after her, pulling her to the surface only to find water had seeped into her helmet, rendering her unable to breathe with her lungs full of liquid.

Ren removed the helmet that she only took off around him to eat or when their master ordered it. He tilted her on her side and through a series of pressures applied by the Force the water was expelled from her body and her heart was restarted. Aneirin gasped for air in big sucking sobs and she didn’t bother hiding how upset she was, having stared down Death only to be pulled back by the very person who’d shoved her towards it. Up ahead on the shore he started a fire and she stripped out of her sopping wet clothing to sit bare in front of the flame to dry her skin and hair. Ren wasn’t about to apologize because her inability to swim and save herself was just further proof that she was useless, but he did delay the headstart on their mission by warming some of their rations for her. He went to give it to her, his hands bare, and when their skin touched he was overwhelmed by a flood of emotions that left him gasping and moving away like she was a viper that had bit him. 

“What the hell?” It was more of a yell of anger than a question, one she flinched away from. They locked eyes, brown ones incredulous and enraged, blue ones timid and submissive. She broke contact first to look down at the bowl of rehydrated soup in her hands, curling around it like it might save her from his wrath. Ren instead huffed and got up to find an extra thermal blanket in the _Silencer_ , throwing it over her as if covering a bird’s cage to get it to sleep. He continued on with his mission, leaving her behind to do whatever it is she does when charged with guarding the ship and leaving him to either think about what happened way too much or push it from his mind as he put his gloves and helmet back on. 

Ren considered himself powerful, skilled, and overall exceptional. His master saw him as overconfident and full of hubris. The mission proved that some of that confidence was justified as attack droids and battle-hardened mercenaries fell like a child’s building blocks by his lightsaber and manipulations of the Force. He couldn’t exactly explain how but he felt… different. He’d felt it before on more recent missions where his shadow was nearby, or when he was training with her in the room. On his way back to the ship he contemplated Aneirin’s existence, a weird nebulous being in the flow of the Force. Her presence pushed against his strangely, creating a strange absence, a void like a starless patch of space. That and her near-constant imitation of a kicked lothcat was what irked him. What little he knew of her explained it perfectly; she hadn’t come to the service of Supreme Leader Snoke willingly, she’d been tortured and experimented on with every manifestation of the Force possible, and she was chained to Ren indefinitely. Even he didn’t like dealing with himself every moment of his life. 

Upon returning to the landing pad and hastily-made campsite, he found his shadow sitting by the fire, thermal blanket wrapped around her and a blaster by her side. A few meters away lay the body of a mercenary, three tightly-grouped charred holes in his chest. Ren inspected the corpse and the area surrounding it. There was no blaster that the mercenary undoubtedly would have had, which meant the one beside her and thus the one that had killed him had been his own. The wounds confirmed that he’d been shot at close range and the ground was indicative of a struggle. Aneirin was visibly shaking when he came closer to the campsite and given that the fire was warm, turning her face red, it could only mean that she was upset. Her clothes still hung wet, he hadn’t realized how little time he’d taken, and so she sat only covered by the thermal blanket. 

“We’re done here.” Aneirin nodded at the modulated instruction and stood to gather everything up. Creating her wet clothes into a bundle with the blanket she boarded _Silencer_ naked. For once Ren was bothered by it but he wasn’t about to make his discomfort heard, it would be a sign of weakness. The custom-made TIE yawed in the planet’s gravity as they made their escape trajectory. 

The cockpit, with him at the controls and her curled up in a small space behind the pilot’s chair meant for small cargo, was silent save for the low hum of the twin ion engines. Ren let ship maintain its trajectory once in the vacuum of space, not yet engaging the hyperdrive, as he removed his helmet with its characteristic hiss. He did something he never thought he’d do in the five years he’d been using the name Kylo Ren. “Where are you from?”

“Sir?” Aneirin’s voice was small and unsure, confused. One of the things he hated most about her was that he couldn’t simply probe her mind for information and intentions, he had to discern it like every other normal human being. How tedious. 

“What planet are you from?” He heard her shift in the small space behind him, his ear only slightly turned to her. 

“Corsaira.” 

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s far away.” Ren snorted. Of course, she didn’t know her astrography, it wouldn’t have been important for her to know. He made some inquiries to his navicomputer.

“On the edge of the Outer Rim, Wild Space. That _is_ far away.” She had no response and he had to think of something else to keep the conversation going. “So, Wild Kid, What-“

“I’m older than you.” The interjection had actually jarred him a little. 

“What?” 

“You called me kid. I’m four years older than you.” 

“Fine, whatever. What is it like being outside of the better part of the galaxy?” 

“We didn’t interact much with the rest of the galaxy. We keep to ourselves and our system, mostly.” Ren fiddled with preparing the hyperdrive as he considered his next question. 

“How did you know you were different?” The question seemed so loud that it deafened the hum of the engines in the moments after it. The cockpit was filled with a tense energy that for once wasn’t anger or spite. 

“The Magi came around checking citizens for anyone who was Earthbound. Then a black ship came and faceless people in black took me away from my planet.” Aneirin took a ragged deep breath behind him. He knew the part that came after. 

“Are there a lot of people like you there?” 

“One in a hundred are Earthbound in some way, one in a thousand is Magi. I don’t know how many are the same as me, for all I know I’m the only Remnant with my gift.” There was a further back and forth of what all of her planet-specific terminologies meant, the people she’d encountered, relevant legends. Then they came out of hyperdrive by the unnamed rock that served as their master’s personal temple. _Silencer_ landed and the two alighted, he unburdened with helmet back in place on his head and her carrying in their supplies to be cleaned and replenished. The rock was cold and desolate, Ren knew she was freezing without clothing and the Force to ward off the elements, so he removed his cloak to drape over her shoulders. Through his black leather gloves, he could feel an energy, like the thrum of life, radiate from her chilled skin. Blue eyes liked into the black visor in confusion but he disengaged from her to inform their master of the mission’s success. 

* * *

Kylo didn’t know what to do. Curiosity demanded he read the long detailed file of research done on his shadow only to find there was no real explanation for what happened on the watery planet. So he found her room in the maze of the temple and walked in without announcing himself. 

It was small and spartanly furnished with only a narrow bed and a plasteel footlocker at the foot of it. There was a door that led to a cramped refresher which she’d just stepped out of with moisture clinging to her pale skin and dripping from her burnished gold hair. She didn’t make an attempt at modesty but instead looked up at him with a question silently shining in them. The door closed behind Ren as he stepped the rest of the way into the room and she watched as he removed one of his gloves. He could hear the sound of her nervous swallowing of accumulated spit as he slowly reached towards her. The air vibrated with increasing frequency as the distance between them shrank until their skin touched at her bare shoulder. Once again he was overcome by a storm of emotion but the longer he remained in contact the more ordered and separated the feelings became until he could understand them.

There was the ever-present foundation of fear, the belief that at any moment she would be disposed or her torture would begin again. The background of her mind was painted with a sadness; loved ones lost, a feeling of loneliness, emptiness, isolation. At the forefront was something warm and inviting but cautious. It was excitement and uncertainty centred around the point where they connected. He heard a voice, which he thought was impossible in her presence. 

‘Can you hear me?’ 

He could. Every other sound in the universe but her voice dropped away.

‘Can you see me?’ 

There was no room, no temple, no barren cold rock. Just them. 

“What is this?” His voice was swallowed by the black void they occupied. 

“We’re bonded.” Her skin practically glowed against the background. 

“What does that mean?”

“That the Force flows through both of us like a circuit. It carries our power to the other, making us stronger.”

“And why did that happen?” She tilted her head to one side and looked away in thought. 

“Time. A connection. Most likely when you saved my life.”

“But I was the one who almost drowned you!” Aneirin didn’t look surprised and for once she didn’t flinch when Ren raised his voice. She shrugged. When he released his touch on her the real world came back into place around them and once again they were standing in her bare quarters. Without a word he turned and left. 

* * *

They’d gone back to training with her in the room and Ren could feel the noticeable surge in power when she was close by. When she was on the other side of the temple it slacked to its normal level which felt sickeningly weak compared to how he felt with their supposed bond intact. So Master Snoke sent him on a mission meant to test this power. A planet of beings trained for millennia to be a challenge for the Sith. They’d come at him in force, his little shadow tucked away at a safe distance behind some rocks. 

Their numbers had dwindled to barely a dozen when he felt a perceptible shift in the Force, a rock thrown into the river that flowed around him. She was running towards him, apparently flushed out from her hiding place by sniper fire. The logical conclusion had been to run towards him, for her only two options were the man who could deflect blaster bolts or quickly learning how to pilot _Silencer_ if she could get to it before being shot. He’d managed to get the number of his assailants down to four by the time she’d reached him and he deflected a sniper bolt to only be facing three of the reptilian bipeds. Having seen this the sniper stopped his onslaught or else he’d only get more of his compatriots killed, but the distraction gave a warrior the opening to slice his blade along Ren’s side. 

Just as he fell to his knees from the pain, blood oozing from the wound, a shadow picked up his fallen lightsaber and it sheared another blade in half as it came down upon him in a powerful downward arc. Screeches filled his helmet’s audio receptors as the creature’s arms were also cleaved in two. Aneirin was not nearly as skilful as Ren, she lacked his physical power and was dull to the flow of the Force that gave him an edge, but her small body and powerful legs gave her a finesse he’d never seen. He knew that she trained with their master’s Praetorians but he hadn’t ever seen her fight and had dismissed it as no more than childish playing at being a Jedi. She was in the process of felling one of the remaining reptilians when he had to throw the other with the Force to keep it from spearing her back. It was still scrabbling in confusion on the dusty ground when Ren got to his feet, took his blade from his shadow, and burned a hole through its chest cavity. 

“I think we should go now.” Her face was flushed and her breath laboured, blue eyes wide with alertness and impending shock. The wound in his side stung but not so badly that he would need help getting to _Silencer_ a few hundred meters away. Ren scanned the horizon for more threats but found none. Not even a sniper bolt tried to take either of them out as they stood still at the edge of a wide swath of bodies and sandy soil stained red. He nodded and marched slowly enough that she could stay near him on their path back to _Silencer_ , his crimson blade kept on in case anyone got any ideas. 

“Maybe we need to get you one of these.” She laughed, something he’d never heard her do in the years he’d known her. 

“I’d probably slice my own hand off.” It was most likely unintentional but the comment reminded him of his Uncle Luke in a humorous way, a rare thing, and his modulated laugh startled more out of her. “Though maybe we could turn _Silencer_ into a two-seater?”

“I’ll even teach you how to fly it.” 


	23. Heading Home [Han/Luke]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Han Solo, Luke Skywalker, Han/Luke, Skysolo, SFW, Original Trilogy

“Han?”

“Yeah, kid?”

The twinkling of the control panels and the soft blue glow from the viewports washed over the two male figures sitting in the cockpit. One was flicking through star charts and communications while the other was fiddling with some part of something or other. Han didn’t look up.

“You really love her, right?” Han lifted his head to look out at the streaks of white that were stars blurred in hyperdrive.

“Yeah, Luke, I really do.” He turned his gaze to his copilot only to find crystal-blue eyes staring intently at him. The smuggler was about as sensitive in the Force as a brick but it didn’t take being a space wizard to see the slight dejection on the younger man’s face. “Hey, why the long face? You’re supposed to be happy for us.”

Luke turned his attention back to the piece of technology. It was actually completely useless but he needed something to preoccupy himself with. “I am.”

“Aren’t Jedi supposed to be good at lying?”

“Am I a real Jedi? I’d be the only one.” Han chuckled at that and it brought color to Luke’s cheeks.

“Maybe it’s for the best, I don’t really like all that hocus pocus.” His attention was on the ship but it was a thin excuse to not be looking at his copilot. “Besides, Jedi aren’t supposed to be attached.”

“My Father was a Jedi.”

“And look how that turned out.” The two made eye contact and laughed together. Then Luke grew quiet.

“I wish I could have saved him.” Han’s hazel eyes were sympathetic. “I could have.”

“If the Force wanted it, he would’ve lived, Luke. You did all you could.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in that hocus pocus.” Han gave the sandy blond a charming crooked smile.

“Anything to make you feel better, kid.”


	24. Office Romance [Hux/Mitaka]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: General Hux, Lieutenant Mitaka, Hitaka (Hux/Mitaka), SFW

General Hux liked to think of himself as a fair superior that rewarded loyalty, hardwork, and progressive thinking to a proper extent. This was how he believed that the younger officers admired him and followed his orders so studiously, but one officer in particular was adept at anticipating his needs and even his intended orders, as if he could read ahead in the redhead’s book of life by just a few pages. So he’d made this lieutenant his personal assistant so he could take the young man under his wing, like a good superior officer does. 

The problem eventually arose that the general began to stop thinking of Dopheld Mitaka’s place in his life as professional and more… personal. He didn’t know when it happened that a cup of tarine tea being ready for him at the start of his shift was a thoughtful kindness, not just a force of habit. At the first perception of irritation the lieutenant seemed to already have been making another cup to soothe an impending headache or avoid unnecessary strain on Hux’s vocal cords. The shift was subtle and slow but the realization was hard and quick like being hit by a ton of bricks. 

Or in one case the lieutenant’s body as a shield when a well-aimed bomber run blew out part of the bridge. Containment shields were engaged and upon initial inspection neither the general nor Mitaka incurred serious physical harm. Both got to their feet and Hux immediately went back to barking orders. As the last vessels in the skirmish were routed or destroyed, the redhead sweeped into his office, calling his assistant in after him. Upon entering, Mitaka was shaking like a leaf before taking in a deep breath to calm himself and worked against the soreness in his back to properly stand at his full height in front of his superior. “Yes, Sir?”

Gloved hands pulled out a black cigarette from a silver case and precisely flicked on his lighter before turning to the slightly shorter man. With cigarette perched to the side between his lips, Hux inspected his lieutenant. He nodded his chin up in the other’s direction. “Come here. Let me fix that for you.” 

Mitaka wasn’t exactly sure what he meant but he still approached in a few steps. To his surprise, the General took off his officer’s cap, smoothed his disheveled hair as best as it could be done given the circumstances, and replaced the cap to its proper height and angle. Then he dusted off his jacket, took a drag off of his cigarette before pulling it away, blowing the smoke out of his assistant’s direction as a courtesy, and for once gave the lieutenant a look of soft admiration. Dopheld didn’t know it but his cheeks were tinged a lovely shade of pink. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Thank you, lieutenant.” Hux caught the young man’s chin in his hand and gently ran his thumb across the peak of it. Mitaka almost audibly swallowed around a lump in his throat. 

“Sir?” 

“I don’t like the idea of showing interest in a subordinate, it breeds conspiracy, jealousy, expectation. But you are an exemplary subordinate.” Without being told no, which he wasn’t at this junction sure if Mitaka knew he could do, Hux moved his thumb from chin to bottom lip, maintaining his gaze on those big brown eyes. “And I know you can keep a secret.”

“Of course, Sir.” Hux smiled. Not smirked. Not even grimaced or scowled or sneered. Smiled. 

“Very loyal, as well. And I will of course have to commend you for your act of selflessness earlier.” The General tugged the lieutenant’s face closer but it didn’t go unnoticed that he was met halfway. The kiss was chaste but lasting, the tingling feeling in their lips lingering when they pulled apart. Hux took a drag off his cigarette before straightening himself with a barely contained grin. “That will be all, for now, Lieutenant.” 

"Of course, Sir.” 


	25. Freckle Me This [Kylo/Hux]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: my first actual Kylux thing! Brought to you by a lovely prompt submitted to @softkyluxkinks that I happened to immediately be interested in.
> 
> Prompt: “because of reasons™, ren and hux are staying on a planet that is hot and sunny. to please their hosts, they’re staying in their primitive housing, away from the temperature controls of their shuttle. hux is sweaty and uncomfortable. to survive the grueling heat, he strips down to thin trousers and a sleeveless top. hux didn’t know he gets freckles in the sun. he points it out to ren. ren’s mouth waters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Kylo Ren, General Hux, Kylux, SFW

**Planets like these should be outlawed.** Ones where the sun shines too much, it’s too hot even at night, and certainly ones where the people have become so acclimated they don’t even have any form of climate control in their buildings. It was a crime against humanity and decency. The real crime was how Hux was continuously drenched in sweat because he couldn’t rightly excuse himself ten times a day to change and take a cold shower. The worst was when their hosts brought up accommodations.

“That won’t be necessary.” The general had to remind himself to not seem too eager to dismiss the possibility of sleeping in one of these damned buildings that might as well have been torture chambers to him. “We are more than comfortable using our shuttle for that purpose.”

Some looks were exchanged between the dark-skinned hosts and of all people, Kylo Ren was the one to speak up. “Now, General, I think for the sake of understanding our potential allies that we should humbly accept their offering.”

Hux would’ve shot him a sharp glare if he hadn’t heard a faint voice in his mind’s ear. ‘We don’t want to offend them.’ Fine, they’d spend their whole time on this planet losing every ounce of water in their body through their pores.

To help acclimate himself, the redhead finally cursed regulations and shucked off his uniform jacket in favor of the sleeveless undershirt, which was unfortunately black but it would have to do. Somehow he’d managed to get his hands on a pair of thin trousers and he just had to put up with stuffing the legs into his regulation boots. Hux felt strange without his uniform but for once his comfort meant more to him. Somehow the black mass that was Ren managed to go around in his normal clothing and when prodded about it, the General was given some nonsense about the power of the Force. His eyes had rolled in his head so hard they almost got stuck.

Despite the thick layers of strong lotion designed to protect his delicate skin from the sun’s harsh rays, Hux was developing something akin to a tan. He was mostly oblivious to it, as well as to Ren’s increased interest in his appearance once he’d changed, until he’d went to wash away what he thought was dirt on the back of his arm. Upon closer inspection, he found them to be freckles. The only planet he’d really been on for an extended period of time was Arkanis, which was prone to long periods of rain, so he hadn’t stood in the sun for very long there. They were standing waiting for their hosts to see them off when he looked at a pointy shoulder. “Oh, look, I hadn’t realized.”

He didn’t know that Ren had already noticed but had been hiding his attention all week. Now he had to deliberately look at the once-flawless cream-colored skin that was now dusted with light brown spots and a glow of pink. When Hux lifted his green eyes to gauge the other man’s reaction, the hungry intensity he saw in Ren’s face had him faltering for a moment. He cleared his throat and the Knight was jarred from his inspection. “Yes, how strange, guess you’re not a fancy droid after all.”

“Quite.” They said their farewells to their hosts and Hux breathed a sigh of relief when they entered the cool privacy of their command shuttle. A pair of strong leather-clad hands grasped his thin waist to keep him in place. “Have you gone mad?!”

“Quite.” Ren loved throwing Hux’s snark back at him almost as much as he loved teasing the man. He dipped his head the few inches to press his lips gently to the freckles on the slender shoulders. The involuntary sound the General let out was obscene.

“Careful, Ren.”


	26. The Strong, The Sweet, and The Fuck-Up [Hux/Aneirin, Modern AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aneirin and Hux encounter each other at their friend Phasma's birthday party, have an unsuccessful attempt at a one-night stand that leads to shitty feelings, and meet again.  
>  **NSFW (Sexual Content), unrevised**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Armitage Hux, Aneirin Reader (OFC), Captain Phasma, Modern AU, Demisexuality, Acespec, Sexual Content (vague and short-lived)

They’d met at her friend Phasma’s birthday party; a swanky bar in the posh side of town that Aneirin only went to with her rich friend. She wasn’t a poor bumpkin kid anymore but she always got sticker shock and god forbid she be given a menu with no prices. So only when there was an open bar did she indulge in more than one drink. Painfully shy the tiny blonde said happy birthday to her Viking Queen of a friend and talked as long as she could before the woman was whisked away to the dancefloor, leaving her to sit in a quiet corner with her drink. It wasn’t entirely clear to her who had noticed who first, her having seen the redhead move between people but he hadn’t made eye contact with her until he sidled up to her at the bar while she was getting a new drink. 

“I’d buy you a drink but I think they’re still free.” He was undoubtedly handsome, though the light was low, and his accent was reminiscent of the same island Phasma hailed from. Even in the relative dark of the bar his green eyes pierced her and she laughed nervously at which he lifted a dark eyebrow.

“Well, if they weren’t, that would be a first.” 

“You must be joking.” She shook her head and heard the low hum he emitted. He finished off his drink, leaving the glass with its melting ice on the bar counter to be picked up when her new drink was handed to her. “Well, if I can’t buy you a drink, then I will have to ask you to dance.”

“Oh, I don’t dance either.” Aneirin couldn’t decide if the heat in her face was just from the alcohol or the embarrassment she was making of herself. “Sorry to disappoint, I’m not very interesting.” 

“Just as well, I don’t actually enjoy it, just that women in places like these want to.” He looked her up and down before continuing. “I find it hard to believe that Phasma would keep a bore around, that isn’t her style.” 

Is that what was happening? Was she just being… ‘kept around’? Was her only real friend not actually a friend? Was she some novelty, a hole in a friendship bingo card? Did she-

“Doesn’t matter much, while it would be nice to hold a conversation, I’m not really interested in one.” His voice broke her of the mental tearing down of shoddily erected walls to keep back her insecurities. In a moment of losing metaphorical balance and in an attempt to repair those walls, she left her drink half-empty and went home with him. He lived close enough that they walked and she had trouble keeping up with him, both because of his long legs and her inebriation. 

In his painfully-modern apartment she’d tried to kiss him but he’d rejected it, the first chip in her armor. Instead he attacked her neck as soon as it was relieved of her shirt collar, sucking to the point of pain before swiping his tongue over it to soothe as he deftly undressed her. In his bedroom he relieved her of her underthings, a twitch of brief agitation at the sight of her rather unsexy black boyshorts crossing his face before he quickly undressing himself. He’d been giving her breasts attention after pulling a condom out of his bedside dresser, plopping it on the bed for later, when finally he did something that had her speaking up. His long fingers stroked the too-sensitive skin in apology but his green eyes flashed with annoyance at being told that she didn’t enjoy something he’d obviously wanted to do. It wasn’t her fault that her chest had always been overly sensitive to touch and easily hurt, but it was the second chip in her armor. 

So he made his way down between her legs, those long fingers working tight muscles while his tongue lapped and flicked. She rolled her hips away when whatever he’d done didn’t feel quite right but after a few instances his free hand held her still, as if he thought she was fighting a good feeling with involuntary fidgeting. Aneirin tried to put her fingers in his hair, it was pretty and it was an intimate thing to do other than just lay there, but he pushed her arm away out of the way, a look making it clear he didn’t want to be touched. Satisfied she was ready, he wiped his face with the back of his hand and upon getting himself ready he pushed himself inside her with a few strokes of increasing length before being able to fully seat his cock to the base. When her hands would instinctively touch him, wanting to feel him and do something, he took her by the wrists and held them down so she couldn’t do it again. She didn’t mind the act so much as he’d bent her arms into an uncomfortable position. “Could you let go, that hurts.”

He did but with a huff, she’d learned her lesson that he didn’t want to be touched but she didn’t know what else she was supposed to be doing while the one on bottom. He lifted her leg by the knee to facilitate a deeper angle and his other hand tried to circle her clit in a pleasing fashion but instead he’d given her a cramp that had her wincing. Nothing seemed to be able to go right as she asked permission to stretch out the cramp and she was about to call it off with an apology, but instead he flipped her over, pulled her hips up, and entered her from behind. She wouldn’t have minded if the hand pressing down on her shoulder didn’t force her into an uncomfortable position, craning her neck, breaking her back. The angle he pounded her from bottomed out painfully and she could feel herself starting to rub against the latex barrier between them. For a few minutes she didn’t say anything, hoping that all his sounds and quick pace meant that he would be finished soon. But that wasn’t in the stars either and the friction became a fire hazard. “I’m sorry, I-“

The redhead growled in agitation but he quickly withdrew himself and let go of her. Getting off the bed with the heavy thud of feet, he marched himself to the adjoined bathroom without looking back. “Leave.” His voice had been harsh and sharp, angry, before he slammed the door behind him. 

Aneirin felt her chest tighten with impending tears but she knew it was better to go as quickly as she could. So she got redressed and when she was finally putting on her shoes a ginger cat came to greet her. Well, it was more like it was fascinated by her shoe, stuffing its face into one while she put on the other. She heard the bathroom door open and in a panic she took the shoe away. “You’re a pretty kitty but I have to go, I’m sorry.” She gave it a few brief strokes before rushing out the door, making sure it didn’t follow her out into the hallway. In the mirror sheen of the elevator she fixed her appearance and steeled herself for the train ride home. She thought about going back to the party but she’d only ruin her friend’s birthday when inevitably the subject of what she’d gotten up to came up. 

Instead she went to her little apartment in the middle-class side of town and cried while eating some leftover Chinese food from the night before. Then a scalding hot shower to scrub off the dirty feeling and a night of fitful sleep.

* * *

Hux never had such a disastrous night in his life since he still had to live in fear of his father. It had been too late to find someone else so he had to settle for relieving himself of the straining ache in the shower like a teenager. He could hear the irritating woman say something from the front room, obviously to his cat Millicent, and he was glad she was gone by the time he marched out there. The next morning he sighed in agitation as he found her hair clip on his floor, having obviously fallen when he’d undressed her. He would’ve just gotten rid of it but he could tell it was expensive and the stamp on the inside indicated he was right and that it also was a gift with a small engraving that didn’t mean anything to him but would to her. She was friends with Phasma so at least he could pass the burden of its return to the tall blonde and be done with it.

It was just his luck that the two women were in line ahead of him at the coffee shop at the bottom of his building where he worked with Phasma. He thought about returning the clip, pinched to the inside of his suit jacket as a reminder, then and there until he could hear the two speaking.

“You didn’t say goodbye last night, what did you get up to?” The taller one playfully elbowed her friend but even Hux could read that the smaller one was in no mood to be touched. Phasma noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” The friend obviously wasn’t getting coffee because she sipped some from a thermos she was holding. 

“Obviously not nothing, you’re upset.” A dark look crossed her face and her lips pulled thin. “Who do I have to kill?”

“No one, it’s my fault.”

“Nothing is ever your fault, you’re an angel sent from heaven.”

“Shut up, Phas, I’m not.” Even from where he stood Hux could hear the strain of repressed tears in the woman’s voice. She sighed. “It was a guy.”

“Normally I’d be happy you finally got some but I have a feeling I won’t like this story or this guy. Tell me about it.” As the story was recounted from the other’s point of view, Phasma’s face grew darker and harsher until finally they were standing to the side waiting for her order and she put a supportive hand in her friend’s shoulder. “An, love, that guy was just an asshole. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault you weren’t enjoying yourself and you don’t need to feel guilty that you failed at being some fuckhead’s sex toy of the night.”

“What’s wrong with me?” The woman, Anne? had her back to him as he made his order and he was thankful she didn’t see him. Her voice had wavered as if she were on the verge of tears. “Why does this always happen?”

“Maybe you don’t like guys? Or you just think they’re nice to look at and don’t really get the whole sex thing? Believe me, as a lesbian, I’ve gotten to learn about all sorts of things concerning sexuality.” 

“Great, I’m not normal like I thought I was.” The smaller one lowered her head, deflated. She received a push to the shoulder. 

“Hey!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. You know I don’t care what people are, I just wish I knew what I’m supposed to be looking for.” Phasma grabbed her drink and for a brief second Hux thought the other one might spy him, he held his breath waiting for the emotional fallout and ridiculous impending scene. “I’m tired of being lonely.” 

It was the last thing he heard the woman say before she muttered some farewell and kissed Phasma’s cheek goodbye. Hux released the breath he was holding in relief that the woman worked in another building and so there was no chance of being crammed into the same elevator. The two coworkers met waiting for a set of doors to open to take them up to the 13th floor. “Hux, how did you enjoy the party?”

“The party itself was wonderful, as always. You sure know how to throw one.” An elevator wasn’t a place for a private conversation so they rode up in silence. She followed him to his office where they sipped coffee together. 

“Why’s your pocket weird? Forget to iron it?” For a few minutes Hux had forgotten about the clip and his chest felt like it caved in to leave a deep pit in his stomach as he realized that he thought he would be able to walk away from the dreaded night’s events without being confronted by his best friend. He took the clip out, cleared his throat, and held it out for her to take. He opened his mouth to explain but Phasma snatched it and rage painted her face. “You fucking asshole!” Her voice had been a strained whisper but he still flinched. “How dare you. I should strangle you.”

“Phas, I-“ a big strong hand slammed his desk and he jumped in his chair. 

“Don’t you ‘Phas’ me. My precious Aneirin is having a sexual identity crisis and all because you had to be your pompous playboy cockhead self.” 

“I’ve never had someone complain before, how should I-“ Phasma smacked his desk again.

“Not all women are the same, moron. I bet she did everything you don’t like, lovey stuff. You’ve been with enough people to know when someone is just incompatible.” She pointed at him threateningly. “If you see her again, you’re going to apologize and prostrate yourself like the speck of dirt you are, you hear me?”

Hux didn’t often feel guilt. That day he found he didn’t like it at all.

* * *

Phasma seemed to know every LGBT+ group in the city and she pointed Ani to a little apartment that was actually near hers where a young woman held a support group for people on the ‘ace’ part of the spectrum. Ani didn’t really know if that was where she was but she was tired of feeling like a weird clump of dirt that would never know love or would die alone because no one would ever understand her. So she baked some pumpkin cheesecake squares and walked one block over to the apartment of Hope Hutchinson. Despite the best efforts of most people involved, she was nervous about opening up. To the group she simply said she wasn’t sure where she really laid on the three-dimensional space that was sexuality but she was reassured that was okay. Most people were leaving and she was collecting her serving plate when the hostess approached her. 

“Hey, Ani, right?” She nodded and shook the young woman’s hand. “I know it can be kinda hard to open up to a lot of people, but if you want to talk about it I’m always here.”

“That’s kind of you…” That slightly shorter woman explained her situation, that she’d never fully had a good sexual encounter though she undoubtedly was capable of thinking about sex and found people, mostly men, appealing. She expressed her desire to know how to explain herself to future partners, but that meant being able to understand it herself. “I’m tired of… feeling unwanted, frustrating people when I don’t… work correctly.”

“You shouldn’t feel that way. Have you ever felt close to the people you’ve tried sleeping with?” Ani thought about it and ultimately shook her head with a look of shame on her face. “Hey, nothing to feel bad about. Maybe if you’ve never been emotionally close to someone before… you could be demi. Demisexuals have to have an emotional connection before they’re ready to have sex, instead of being physically able to just casually hook up with people.”

“But how do I… know that?” Hope sighed and laughed.

“You won’t really unless it works. It’s hard to prove something by the absence of something else. Give it a try, just let someone you’re interested in know that they will have to be patient and earn your affections before you can be open.” The blonde stole one of the last cheesecake squares off the plate. “And you have to come back to these meetings because this shit is to die for, fuck yes.”

The two women laughed and shared the last of the desserts, sharing stories about their awful sexual forays until it was time for Aneirin to walk back home.

* * *

The Christmas season approached which meant Hux was in a foul mood. While his coworkers and subordinates saw him as a Scrooge due to his poor attitude around holidays, he was actually quite generous; he didn’t actually need to work but he did anyways, and without a family’s worth of expenses that meant he had more money than he knew what to do with. But the season brought one thing he could look forward to: Phasma’s Christmas party. The rich Sapphic giantess threw the most magnificent parties and collected a following of beautiful and sometimes interesting women. In retrospect it had been a surprise that he’d chosen that particular friend, Aneirin, to take home from the birthday party, she wasn’t at all his usual fare. She was short and while she wasn’t overweight she had thick thighs with wide hips that supported a more-than-one-handful ass. She dressed like she didn’t want to be noticed and the most womanly thing about her style was that she didn’t hide her chest or wear her hair shorn to the scalp. 

He arrived dressed to the nines and chatted with the acquaintances they had in common before making his way to the bar. Like a hawk Phasma swooped in on her tall heels and flowing off-white pantsuit number, making her presence undeniably known. “Hux.” 

His green eyes followed where she indicated and he quickly looked away when he saw that at the other end of the bar sat that woman. “I’m not going to do anything, I promised.”

“Oh, you’re going to do something: a-pol-o-gize.” Her brilliant eyes burrowed into him and stripped his protective layers, leaving him bare under her gaze. With a muttered ‘fine’ he left the bar with drink in hand to navigate his way to the woman. From a distance he could overhear the conversation she was having with someone Hux knew to be one of Phasma’s many paramours. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not widely interested in women, I mostly like men? But I’m demi, so it’s actually kind of difficult for me to-“ 

“Demi?” The woman seemed a little offput at being told the other wasn’t attracted to women, but Hux did pick up on the word ‘widely.’ Interesting. He stood with his back to them so he could appear not interested in their conversation. 

“Yes, demisexual? We have to be emotionally connected to our partners before we engage sexually. So that kind of rubs people the wrong w-“

“That’s not real. You’re just another straight that wants to feel unique.” The woman snorted in disgust and moved past Hux like the conversation left her the one offended and not the other way around. He gave it a few minutes for the one left behind to sort out whatever emotional backlash she suffered before he could make a proper apology. The seat she’d occupied was empty but his eyes followed the small path she’d made on her way to the patio. The air bit at him where he’d checked his coat but he still made his way to where he could hear soft sobs around a corner. 

“I’m sorry, I had overheard…” For once he was soft-spoken as to not scare her. She looked up and laughed at the sight of him. 

“Oh, it’s you. Phas said your name was Hux, did I get that right at least?” Her tone was sharp but she seemed to regret it. “I’m sorry, I’m upset, I didn’t mean that that way.”

“It is Hux and I believe I deserved that.” He chuckled slightly and like penguins they stood close together to ward off the cold. “I’d offer you my jacket but then you’d have to drag my frozen corpse back inside.” 

“I’m a frigid bitch I’ll be fine.” She snuffled as her nose ran, her face lowered either out of embarrassment, to protect it from the chill, or both. 

“That’s not exactly the common context for-“

“I know how people mean it.” She glared a dagger up at him before looking back down at her feet. He shifted his own so that they’d be able to face each other, their breath creating a little cloud of shared warmth between them. 

“I take it someone has said that to you before.” She didn’t look up or respond so he continued. “I’m sorry. For the way I acted and for the things that woman said to you. And for the things other people have apparently said to you. If you have to love people first then you’re not frigid.” 

Her blue eyes were surprised but she rubbed her face to get the feeling back into it as well as to hide her sobs. “It’s okay. Thank you.” 

Hux didn’t have much experience in comforting people but he knew normal people were open to embraces, he had at one time been naked and inside her, and she’d tried to be affectionate at that time, so he timidly pulled her against him, feeling her shake in his arms. “Not to devalue your emotions but maybe you could expedite this so that we can both return to a place where our noses won’t break off?” 

She laughed and sniffled, wrapping her arms around him to return the hug if only for a little bit. Back inside they sat together in a secluded section of the event hall, sharing a drink and regaining the feeling in their skin. “I wish I’d known, when we met. I wouldn’t have wasted all that effort.”

Hux sipped his whisky and gave a wry smile, a self-deprecating chuckle. “At the very least I learned a lesson about being a right asshole.” Her laughter reminded him of why he’d picked her at the birthday party; pretty in a way that was both plain and unique, unassuming yet distinct. The barbs they exchanged told him he would enjoy more conversations with her. “I’d like for us to start again, if it’s possible to put the past behind us.” 

“I think I could manage that.” So they exchanged numbers and he asked her to have dinner with him Wednesday. “That’s Christmas.”

“Shite, you’re right. How about-“

“No, no, I’m okay with it, if you are.” He must’ve looked confused because she obviously felt the need to continue. “I don’t have any family, at least not any I’d spend Christmas with.” 

“Then it’s a date.”

* * *

Their Christmas date went well, for the most part. She’d brought him a present in the form of a tin full of cookies but he’d refused on the principle that he didn’t like sweets. So he invited her over for New Year’s to make up for the obvious disappointment on her face. Hux’s mood was surprisingly lifted to unknown heights to see Aneirin get along with his Millicent and the three of them sat on the couch drinking and playing cards. They counted with the second hand on his watch and when it struck midnight their lips found each other. He wasn’t one for kissing, it was too personal and intimate for what he was used to, but he melted against her clumsy but passionate movements. She tasted like his nice Scotch and smelled like honey soap. Her hands rested on his chest gingerly and one of his cupped the back of her neck, the other finding the small of her back to press her against him. At the feeling of his growing need for more than affection she shifted away but didn’t stray very far. 

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know if I’m ready to try that again.” Her face was flushed but it had been for quite some time due to their celebrating, but the apologetic look on her face and the tone of her voice seemed genuine. He brushed a stray strand of hair back behind her ear like he’d seen someone do in a movie. 

“It’s fine, it’s just been a while. There’s no hard feelings.” Except the one straining against his khakis. She laughed as if she sensed his joke through the deadpan delivery. 

“I do enjoy kissing you, if that’s any consolation.” 

“It is.” So he pulled her back against him with some soft sounds and no resistance for his efforts. He had to keep it from wandering out of ‘getting to know one another’ territory into ‘heated’ to avoid being too insistent and therefore pressuring the expectation of sex. Eventually she pulled away after slowing down, looking shy and supplicating. 

“You… don’t mind if I spend the night, right?” No one had ever been given permission to spend the night but it was well past midnight and he knew she took the train. He didn’t like the thought of someone he was trying to get to know having to navigate safely through the city during New Years, especially someone so small and inebriated. 

“Of course not. I’ll even let you borrow some clothes. You can sleep at the foot of the bed with Millie.” He was glad that she understood his humor already, or maybe she laughed to assume he was joking and would formulate a proper response if he was serious. She went into his bathroom while he got the apartment ready for the night and when she came out he had a set of clothing available for her to sleep in, obviously oversized due to their physical differences. They’d seen each other bare before but it felt somehow more invasive to watch her shed the clothes she came in and tug on his own. 

He wasn’t used to another person actually sleeping in his bed beside him and it caused him more unrest than normal. She’d been extremely tired, probably a combination of the hour and the alcohol, and so had fallen asleep almost immediately. In that sleep she made noises that took up all of of his attention and shifted around for the most comfortable position. For a moment he considered sleeping on his own couch but instead he turned on his side, found her back to him, and wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her close. She was warm but the apartment was a little cold so he didn’t mind. Hux didn’t know when he’d fallen asleep himself but he dreamt about properly making love like a real person does. When he woke up some hours later he was moaning in the back of his throat and rolling his hips into something warm and soft that wriggled away. 

“You awake?” Her voice was soft and whispered, not wanting to wake him if he wasn’t already conscious. He backed away to give her some space and she took it as a sign that he was in fact awake, sitting up with her back against the headboard. 

“I apologize, I just woke up, I must’ve done that in my sleep.” He hoped it sounded convincing, because the words could easily have been a cover-up. She seemed to believe him but it didn’t relieve the tension in her body. “I promise, I am completely fine with waiting for you to be ready. I’m not about to willfully rut myself against you like some animal.” 

“I don’t want to cause you so much… dissatisfaction.” There was guilty in her voice and with his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw that she couldn’t look him in the eye. He reached out to gently touch her face with the back of his fingers until she felt she could look at him. 

“I’ve always been an unsatisfied person. But you’ve been satisfying a need I didn’t even know I had.” He found her trembling lips in the dark with his own for something soft and chaste. She sniffed and he could hear the telltale whine in her throat of impending tears. 

“I just… sometimes I think about making some… arrangement. But I would be jealous, as awful a thing that is to be, and I’d constantly worry you’d break up with me.” Finally tears broke out and he wiped them away before pulling her to his chest. He let her cry it out, half because he didn’t know what else to do and half because it seemed like what she needed. She’d admitted that sometimes she just had to cry even if she knew it was stupid, it was just unavoidable. So Hux rubbed circles in her back and planted kisses to the top of her head. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I assure you, it’s unnecessary. I’d rather keep this as simple as possible.” He tilted her face up and gave her an innocent peck. “Besides, I think it’s time I grew a heart instead of drowning my problems in sex.”

“And liquor.”

“Let’s not get greedy.” 


	27. Doctor's Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning(s): Mentioned Child Death, generally Angst-y  
> Characters: General Hux, Aneirin Reader (OFC)  
> Unrevised

How does one hide death from a hundred displaced children locked in a room, make them ignore their mortality like the innocents they are? How does it become so easy to lie to them; look them in the eye and tell them everything will be okay when you know they are intended to be tools of war, while your assistant scoops one up and hurries then away, never to return? Why is it so hard to lie to them when they ask where their friend is, where their parents are, where they’re going?

Why are we so powerless?

General Reader asked herself these questions when the Finalizer brought aboard and quarantined roughly a hundred young children. They were intended for the stormtrooper program but as it turned out the planet they were taken from had been suffering a widespread disease with a high mortality rate. The ship’s regular occupants were in no danger, thanks to regular vaccine protocol, but the children had not been in such a medically rigorous society. 

The medical staff took turns helping in the quarantine. It made sense, a person could only handle so much, even the most hardened of First Order officers. They stopped wearing anything but red or black scrubs. She managed to put together cute little pins to make them not look so grim. It helped, but not them. 

The officer’s mess was loud except for the bubble surrounding the one table. In turn she looked into the faces of twenty doctors and nurses that joined her for their meal hour. They all looked up at her. They were all scared. She wondered who would be the first to break.

It was her.

Then it was all of them. They were like children watching their mother being unable to hide the truth from them anymore. Tears stained every face, some silently, others muffled in hands, most in uncontrolled sobs.

The mess was silent except for them. All eyes turned and stared. They didn’t know what was happening.

They never would.

“Get rid of them.” Green eyes flashed on the bridge in anger. A lip was snarled in disgust. “And pull yourselves together.”

“They’re not broken droids, Hux. I can’t just ‘get rid of them’.” Her voice was shaking just like the rest of her.

“This behavior is unbecoming of First Order officers. Besides, they’re weak.”

All eyes turned at the sharp sound of skin on skin and the soft clatter of a cap and data pad falling to the ground. He could taste the copper on his tongue from where he bit his cheek on impact, the sting of his reddening face bringing tears to his eyes. He resisted the urge to bring up a hand to feel the wound, like he couldn’t believe it happened, and he managed to blink away the sign of his pain.

In the cold light of the bridge he could see what the last week had done to the once gentle doctor, the noble general. In her eyes was true pain.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart, just close your eyes. I’m here.”

Hux had seen it before on many occasions, but until it was painted on pale skin he hadn’t realized how incredibly red blood could be.

Hux had seen life be taken away before, but until he watched it fade away from someone so small, so innocent, he hadn’t realized how incredibly precious life could be.

Hux had broken many people, done it for pleasure and power, but until he watched the other general clutch a head of red hair, a pale face dusted with freckles, to her chest like a doll, he hadn’t realized.

How powerless he really was.

Nearly a hundred little lives snuffed out and he’d expected Doctor Reader to bear the weight of it all. But he couldn’t even bear to watch her guide a child, that reminded him too much of his younger self, into the dark void of death. 


	28. Ring [Hux/Ani, Soulmate AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning(s): Creative Foul Language  
> Character(s): General Hux, Aneirin Reader (OFC)  
> Unrevised

General Hux had given up on finding love the moment he was bequeathed the stupid ring on his finger. He cursed whoever started the ridiculous magic ritual, having purportedly holy people divine a person’s soulmate and identifying them not by name but by a phrase. It wasn’t even guaranteed to be the first thing said, it was entirely possible two people could go years or even to the moment of death without knowing they were supposed to be together. Most people gave up to live a life of solitude or accepted that they weren’t with their soulmate, but were happy anyways. He was in the first category. 

The little band of gold had been on his right ring finger since he was 13 and he’d never been able to figure out what was etched into it, the main reason why he gave up on finding his soulmate. Who was he going to be bonded to that didn’t speak Galactic Basic? Linguistic research turned up nothing, which was even more dismal because it meant whatever language it was probably came from some backwater or nonhuman species. He kept being tempted to forcibly remove it from his finger but to do so meant a withering death; he’d rather be cursed with the damn thing until his natural life was over than that fate. 

Supposedly when the words on the band were said, it would heat up and continue to do so until it was slipped from the wearer onto the left ring finger of the soulmate. To not do so meant losing the finger and possibly the hand, though the advancements in cybernetic technology cancelled out that fear. Plenty of people went their lives without finding their soulmate, especially so during a war. Hux was nowhere near alone. At least not in that regard. 

There was a person who’d always intrigued him; the new Chief Medical Officer on the Finalizer didn’t wear a ring on either finger, but neither did Kylo Ren or Supreme Leader Snoke. Hux wasn’t able to figure out why but it felt preposterous to ask any of them, like a child curious about a fairy tale. Whatever the reason, he wished he was like them so he didn’t have to carry around a constant reminder of his inevitable lonely death. Of course he could always just find someone who didn’t care about soulmates, but at the moment he had a war to win. Which meant a lot of hard and cruel decisions, some that the General-Doctor did not like. Hux didn’t even remember what decision had resulted in a yelling match between the two of them, but it had to have been especially harsh and heartless for the mild-mannered small-statured woman to hurl insults at him. 

At some point she slipped into her native language, a sign that Aneirin was especially enraged and upset. He was about to tell her to calm down when he felt the ring on his finger heat up. At first he ignored it, that it was a trick of his mind. But as the two of them continued to argue it became too painful to disregard and he had to take off his glove. The damn thing was turning the skin around it red and the etchings glowed. The doctor stopped her tirade. “What is that?” 

“A soulmate ring.” He shook his hand, hoping against logic that it would alleviate some of the burning. 

“A what?” Hux gave her an annoyed look that was at least partially the fault of the searing ring of gold. 

“A soulmate ring! You don’t know about them?” The doctor shook her head and he went into a quick-and-dirty explanation. She indicated that her planet, Corsaira, and its inhabitants didn’t follow the practice, which explained her lack of ring. The burning was becoming too great and he desperately grabbed her left hand. “Stars, just take it! I don’t care if I can just replace my damn hand.” 

Doctor Reader struggled but finally the band had been transferred and while she looked at it in curiosity he found her medical kit to treat his burned skin. Seeing him struggle she took the kit away and started tending to him professionally. “Does something bad happen if you don’t get one in return?” 

“Well if you take it off you slowly die painfully. But I’m not sure about not getting one back.” Blue eyes grew wide in distress and as soon as she was done bandaging his finger she started digging around in one of her desk drawers. She withdrew a pair of worn plain gold rings, took his left hand, and tested to see if the larger one would fit. It was bigger than his thumb knuckle so she tried the second one and found it was not in danger of falling off. “What are these?” 

“They were my parents’.” Hux didn’t know which felt worse: knowing her father had hands that could probably have crushed his skull in one squeeze or that he was wearing her mother’s ring. “I hope that works. If it needs to work at all.”

“Hopefully.” He wondered if it could be taken on and off now, to either be repaired or removed altogether. A thought occurred to him. “What did you say?”

“Excuse me?” 

“What do the words on the ring say? You must have said them to set it off.” He watched as she turned it around her finger and at first she turned red, then giggled, and finally looked guilty. “Well?”

“Gingerbread cock-smoker.” His mouth fell open and his eyebrows knitted into an imposing V in the middle of his forehead. Aneirin casted her eyes down at the floor, the spitting image of a hound that knew it had done wrong. “I’m sorry, I was really angry. I-“

“I’ve been walking around with that on my finger for 21 years?!” The small woman flinched back at his raised voice and for once Hux felt… bad. This was his soulmate, he’d finally found them, and he made her shrink away like his father had done to him when he was young. Tentatively he took her hands into his and attempted to soften his appearance. “I apologize. Let’s start over.”


	29. Pain and Suffering [Hux/Ani]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG  
> Warnings: Strong Language  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Pairings: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character(s)  
> Characters: Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Kylo Ren, Poe Dameron, Leia Organa  
> Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, AU: Canon Divergence, Post-TFA  
> Words: 3706  
> Published: 2018-08-29 Revised: 2019-04-14  
> Summary: With the death of General Hux and Supreme Leader Snoke, the First Order is rudderless and the surviving commanders are left in pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.

It felt as if Ren had pierced her chest with his lightsaber, except that it failed to kill her. Even though she wished it would. It came to the point that such a thing became a possibility. 

“Ren, no!” From Aneirin’s position on the floor, Kylo Ren was an even more imposing figure, robed in black and expression just on the verge of rage.

“Forget him.” The words were strained and the avarice in them was barely contained by a tight jaw.

“I can’t! I won’t!” She clawed and grasped for the thing in his hand, tried to stand up only to be shoved back down. “Please, Kylo, _please_ , don’t!”

“It won’t bring him back.” The casing of the locket creaked in his grip. “Let him go.”

“No!” Her voice was flooded with pain and for once Ren had no choice but to feel the spikes of emotion through the Force, so powerful it overcame her natural immunity, and his heart clenched with empathy. “Please, give it back!”

“You’re the General of the First Order, you have to fulfill your duties.” The doctor made a pathetic sound by his feet, somewhere between a sniffle and a whimper. “You can’t sit in your quarters waiting like he’s going to come back.”

He’d been in the other general’s quarters first and found that small dutiful hands had been making sure everything was just as the owner had liked it as if he would stop in for a meal or sleep at any moment. Greatcoat and cap by the door, boots shined and sitting parallel to the neatly laid out tools both generals used to take them on and off. The bed was made, the pillow closer to the door firmer than the other, and the nightstand on the same side still had the freshly-cleaned ashtray and the book he’d borrowed from her collection. Something about military leaders in her planet’s history, as if that was going to suddenly make him better at being one. Toiletries perfectly in place, clothes clean and pressed, kitchen stocked.

But no one would be coming home.

“I don’t _care_ about the fucking First Order!” She hadn’t exactly cared about it in the first place, but it had been his focus and the source of his self-worth, so she played the part as long as she could help people and she helped indiscriminately.

“You must finish the war.” Ren resumed his vice grip on the locket, furthering the break in the blonde general’s heart.

“It took away the last thing I cared about!” The only sound in her quarters was her ragged strangled breathing as they stared at one another. She tried to swallow around the raw lump in her throat. “Ren, _please._ ”

“It’s just hair.”

“No, please. Just end it.” The newly-minted Supreme Leader took a step back. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“You have to.”

“It hurts too much.” That much was certain, he was ready to rip his own heart out to stop from having to feel the same as her. “I can’t live without him. Armitage was everything to me. I can’t… I can’t live knowing he’s dead, that I’ll _never_ see him again.”

The locket clattered on the floor, swiftly scooped up and replaced around her neck, kissed like a sacred relic. Ren couldn’t take it anymore. He thought about his mother crying, of course in secret because she had to remain the strong Princess Leia to her Republic, when she knew Han was dead by their own son’s hands. No one would have been there to comfort her. A loud _thump_ echoed and the undignified sobbing was muffled. “Please stop.”

“I loved him so much.”

“I know.”

* * *

The jarring shudder of the shuttle being caught in a tractor beam would’ve been fear-inducing had it not been expected and ultimately welcomed.

The rebels who swept the craft found her alone in the cockpit, on her knees with hands in the air. Face solemn and reserved, eyes downcast. Defeated. _Broken._ The locket still hung around her neck.

Despite not putting up any fight they still shoved her around roughly and barked their orders. An alien species she’d never met before (she’d met very few) spit on her face while they were in a turbolift and she didn’t attempt to wipe it away.

They were trying to take away her locket when life reignited in her eyes. Without a word or ounce of struggle, she had let them strip off her uniform, leaving her cold and exposed, and one of them had talked about cutting off all of her hair, but when fingers touched the gold chain she screeched and fought, teeth threatening to draw blood. The sound had caught someone’s attention.

“What is going on in here?” The blonde recognized the voice and the hope of sympathy became possible. “Wait, I _know_ you.”

“You do. Aneirin.” Her tormentors backed off as the handsome man approached the chair she’d been shackled to, hands bound behind her.

“The doctor with the crush on General Hugs.” The sound she made started as a laugh and ended in heart-wrenching sobs. A warm rough hand found her shaking shoulder. “It’s okay. What was the shrieking about? You were being cooperative.”

“ _Please_ don’t take my locket away. It’s all I have left. _Please._ ” One of the others in the room was uncomfortable at the emotional display, the other was unconvinced. Gingerly Poe inspected the piece of jewellery and let it hang against her bare skin when he was done.

“The locket stays.” He winked. “Because I know you’re not as bad as all these other guys think.”

There were grumbles of dissent but the pilot dismissed them with a wave of his hand as he pulled up a chair and sat in front of his former healer.

“Why were you flying in Republic space all by yourself?”

“I wanted to be captured.” There were sounds of confusion behind her but Poe made them stop. There was the telltale sound of the conversation being recorded.

“Why?”

“So you’d execute me.”

“Why would you want us to execute you?”

Silence.

“Doc, why-“

Tears, heavy and hot, fell like rain.

“I can’t live in this world without him.” Her interrogator resisted the urge to comfort her. “It hurts too much.”

“There are other ways to die.”

“None that mean anything. At least I can tell you everything I know without it getting intercepted.” Poe sat up straighter and almost visibly all ears perked up like satellites swivelling into position.

“Why would you betray the Order?”

“It took him from me!” It took her a moment to calm down. “If it wasn’t for that damn weapon, if the Supreme Leader hadn’t told him to use it, he would’ve come back.”

“General Hux gave the order.” Aneirin’s normally kind blue eyes glared daggers into the man.

“If Armitage ever had a fault, it was that he needed to be praised and he couldn’t disappoint the Supreme Leader.” She took a calming breath. “I was there when Snoke ordered it. Armitage resisted, said we could destroy the Resistance without wasting a whole system. But-“

“I find it hard to believe a man like that would hesitate to use his prized superweapon.” She laughed for the first time in months. “What’s so funny, Doc?”

“His favourite cigarettes were Hosnian Royals. Of course, they had to be smuggled and they were expensive, but whenever he saw them he’d get them. Probably would’ve sold _Finalizer_ to get the last one.” Poe seemed as amused as she was.

“Alright. ‘But?’”

“But Snoke made it clear he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“How so?”

“He nearly strangled the life out of me.” Poe considered the information.

“Okay. Let’s move on.” He looked above her left shoulder, probably to confirm that everything was still being recorded. “Tell me everything you know.”

* * *

There was a lot to tell, though she apologized that while she was a general she wasn’t always deemed important enough to receive certain information. She did, however, know the passcode to General Hux’s datapad, but it stopped receiving data a few days after he was declared dead. She also gave them her datapad which, mysteriously, would continue to receive communications despite her being declared missing.

Tears had started again at the mention of the redhead general and Poe got out of his seat to undo her restraints against the advice of the other rebels. He helped Aneirin to her feet and threw her greatcoat around her shoulders, both for comfort and to provide a little decency. “It’s gonna be hard to execute you. Sure I can’t change your mind?”  
She shook her head and choked on some sobs.

“Well, at the very least we can’t do it right away. Come on.” Alone the pilot escorted the defeated officer down into the holding cells. In front of one doorway were four soldiers standing guard. “Get lost for a little while, guys, I got this.”

Grumbles of dissent arose but were squashed and the four left with the echo of footsteps down the hallway. Poe unlocked the door and held it open for her. “It’s not much but I have a feeling you’re going to like it.”

Aneirin scoffed but she stopped just after crossing the threshold.

“Armitage!” In a ball on the floor was a ghost from her past, a pale ginger that occupied the place of honour in her heart. She raced forward, practically fell to her knees before him, and almost didn’t want to touch him for fear of it not being real. But when a green-grey eye opened and saw her, Aneirin knew he was real. As soon as Hux could sit up she wrapped him in her arms tightly, not caring that they obviously hadn’t let him wash the whole time he’d been there. Lips found his, split and bruised, and they only left because she couldn’t stand the taste any longer. She doubted he could either but he didn’t have much choice. When reality sank in he was the one in a fit of uncontrollable sobbing.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” Hux’s voice was hoarse and fragile, though she knew he was trying his best to sound better than he obviously was. She took a mental catalogue of his injuries as he soaked in her sudden appearance. He touched the locket hanging around her neck.

“I thought you died on _Starkiller._ ” Doctor Pritchard told him everything: her distress, being captured on purpose so she could help the Resistance before they’d execute her, how she told them everything she knew and gave them both of their datapads. How Ren became Supreme Leader and let her go, knowing full well what she was going to do. Armitage’s shock was overridden by a higher priority signal from his reeling brain to make up for the pain his assumed death had caused.

Apparently watching two First Order generals cry like injured toddlers about how much they missed each other was too much to bear. The slot at the bottom of the cell door opened for Poe to kick a black case in and across the floor, a medkit with a toothbrush and comb shoved in. Armitage desperately washed out his mouth several times so he could properly kiss her before she started tending to his wounds. He was still a whiny child when it came to antiseptic sting and pressure on sensitive skin. A shower would’ve been amazing but the man knew to stop when he was ahead and settled for combing his hair into a gentle swoop that had his companion humming in approval.

They were allowed some more time together before the door opened and Armitage was the one taken away. Aneirin’s heart hammered in her chest. The pilot gave her a reassuring smile. “You’ll see him again, don’t worry. We just want to talk to him.”

“Please don’t hurt him anymore.” Poe promised that at least he wouldn’t.

* * *

The last thing General Hux wanted to be was a prisoner, but it was better than being on _Starkiller Base_ as it exploded. He was glad he told General Pritchard to stay on _Finalizer_ and he trusted the Star Destroyer had fared better than the planet. Silently he wondered who Supreme Leader Snoke would replace him with; the other general was bright and had learned a lot from her time in command of _Eir_ and from Armitage on _Finalizer_ , but she was a doctor. She was soft, compassionate, and ultimately peaceful; she’d just as soon try to end the war with a treatise than levelling Resistance bases from orbit.

Sitting across from General Organa he didn’t try to seem dignified, proud, or strong. “I’d tell you everything I know, but I’m sure Aneirin already told you everything. Maybe a code or two, but if High Command has any brains those would’ve been deactivated a long time ago.”

“Interesting, general.”

“What is?” The princess didn’t have to act dignified, she just _was._ The effortless shrug and shifts in facial expressions, everything he’d tried to be once upon a time.

“For one, that you addressed someone by a name, a first name, instead of a title.” She looked at the datapad in her lap and Armitage could tell it was First Order issue. “Two, you suddenly want to have a hand in your precious crumbling pseudo-Empire’s downfall? The thing that gave you a purpose, that you were so fiercely loyal to just yesterday?”

“I was withholding information to protect someone, not to protect the Order.” At that he let his chest puff up with confidence.

“General-Doctor Aneirin L. Pritchard?” Leia read the name off of the datapad and the glimpse of a scratch on the back of the casing identified it as his.

“Yes.” He watched as she scrolled through something he couldn’t see.

“‘If you don’t get off your shift in time and eat the dinner I made for you I will personally drag you off the bridge.’” A small smile curled the corner of his lips as he remembered receiving that message. “‘I love you but you’re a fucking idiot.’

“‘I will admit I know practically nothing about Core Worlds but I’d sooner start calling the Commander ‘Crylo Ben’ than agree with the mouldy Imperials that Alderaan was necessary.’

“‘I called him Ben and I think I heard him cry but I’m still alive.’

“‘I’m sorry for giving you the finger every time I saw you today but I’m right and you deserve it. I love you. What do you want for dinner?’

“‘Fight me, breadstick.’

“I like this woman. I can see you do too.” Armitage had no choice but to laugh.

“I do, very much.”

“So then why didn’t you tell us you were coerced into using Starkiller Base by having her life threatened?”

“Would it have mattered?”

“It could have when it came to the subject of your execution.”

“No, because I deserve it.”

“Do you?”

“I gave the order, I oversaw its construction. I’m responsible.”

“If you’d refused you would’ve been killed and someone else would’ve taken your place. You might as well have kept your life, hope for the best outcome.” Armitage scoffed at that, earning him a silvery raised eyebrow and a disbelieving blink.

“Now I’m facing a firing squad. The result is the same: I die and a whole system is gone.”

“And Doctor Pritchard throws herself on your funeral pyre.” He looked down at the table and tried not to think about the image. Of course, he failed and had to blink away the sudden painful emotion. “You’d do anything to keep her alive. Blow up a system despite not wanting to.”

Armitage heard her rustle in her elaborate clothing and when he looked up he saw the familiar shiny black and gold box. “A little bird told me these were your favourite. You strike me as a man of particular tastes. From your cigarettes to your choice in life partners.”

“I apologize, General Organa, but are you telling me that you believe me a sympathetic victim because I’ve destroyed the source of a nicotine habit and my love for someone has been used against me?”

“I’m sure you’ve done your share of horrible things of your own free will. Though another little bird told me there may be more at work here than just some threats and mistreatment. Your doctor likes talking to my captain, it seems.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He honestly didn’t. He watched as she picked up a different datapad, the little symbol on the back casing identifying it as a Chief Medical Officer’s issue.

“‘I have begun noticing a pattern of erratic behaviour in Armitage. In an attempt to discern its cause I will record our interactions and not bring his attention to abnormalities, in case he would purposefully change his behaviour to hide the aberrant thoughts.’

“‘A. yelled at me for researching nonhuman physiology in my spare time when previously he’d expressed a sense of pride in my interests. He never apologized or mentioned it again.’

“‘A. refused to eat the meal I made for him, despite it being his favourite. He called it ‘Republic sympathizer poison’ and stomped off to the bridge. He normally comes to my planet’s defence unless it is to the SL.’

“‘A. held my hand above the plasma torch I’d been using, chastising me for interrupting Commander Ren’s upcoming mission. He doesn’t like Ren and normally he commends me for ruffling the man’s feathers. He didn’t care that I expressed genuine terror at his behaviour and he didn’t attempt to apologize.’

“‘A. expressed to me guilt but he wouldn’t tell me what it was in regards to. When he came back from a meeting with the SL I would’ve mistaken him for one of the Resistance prisoners. I asked what happened and he smacked me across the face, told me to go back to my ivory tower.’

“‘Something is wrong and I don’t know what to do. I miss the real Armitage and I’m scared of the person who has taken his place. Everyone is acting strange, I’m being ostracized by people who have been my colleagues and friends for years. I’m alone.’

“That’s quite the report. For a man who almost took a plasma torch to-“

“I didn’t!” Armitage had been getting visibly more upset the more Leia quoted Aneirin’s logs until tears spilt down his sharp cheeks. “At least… I don’t remember doing that… any of it.”

“The doctor doesn’t strike me as a liar. The touching reunion you had lends me to believe she was right.” He didn’t ask the question that came to mind because his throat had closed up. “But I can’t exactly convince billions of angry sentient beings that you can’t be held responsible, to invoke the name of the Force and the Dark Side would appear to be hand-waving.”

He was given some time to think about the new information. “I have a lot of apologizing to do.”

“Quite a bit. More than a lifetime’s worth.” Leia put a lighter on top of the cigarette carton and slid it across the table to him. He thanked her as he lit one of the slim black sticks. “What am I going to do with you, young man?”

“Publicly kill me, I suppose.”

“While that is what a lot of people want, I don’t actually believe that’s the best solution.” She folded her hands in her lap and leaned back in her chair. “It wouldn’t bring those planets and people back, your death would only be a temporary bandage to the emotional wound. And then I’d have to deal with your doctor, which I’d rather see her alive. She’s brilliant, saved millions of Republic lives, and my idiot Dameron was impressed with her on your ship. I’d like to keep her alive but I’d also frankly rather not have you in security so tight that you’d turn into a diamond.”

“I’d rather not be turned into a gemstone either, thank you.” Suddenly pieces of a puzzle snapped into place. “General Organa. I believe I have a solution to all of our problems, assuming of course that the Republic wins the war. And I may actually have just the weapon you need to do that.”

“I’m listening, General.”

* * *

Armitage Hux never thought he’d see Kylo Ren dragged around by the ear by General Organa, but he had. He never realized he was blind to the secret friendship the Jedi Killer had with the second-youngest general of the dismantled First Order. He also only once fantasized about faking his own death until he fantasized about his father’s actual death. For years he’d dreamed about stepping into the Corsaira sunshine. He wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t having one last happy image before he was actually executed for his war crimes, but it didn’t matter.

In exchange for Aneirin convincing Ren to meet with General Organa, and in essence ending the war, Armitage’s execution was faked and the two were secretly flown to the planet on the edge of the Unknown Regions by one Poe Dameron. Without the watchful eye of the First Order, Corsaira was free to resume its near-total isolation, making it the perfect ‘prison planet’ for ‘General Starkiller.’ Restricted airspace and obsessive attention to the comings and goings from the planet meant it would be impossible for them to leave unless requested by General Organa, but the ‘prisoner’ didn’t intend on leaving his cage.

For the rest of his life, he’d feel deep guilt; whether he was truly responsible or not, it didn’t matter. Instead of wallowing in it he used his knowledge to educate future generations of Corsairans who would go on to protect the galaxy and make it a better place. He occupied his technically-geared mind with the planet’s ambitious recycling plans for war debris and decommissioned spacecraft. What made him really feel like he had earned his pardon was Doctor Pritchard’s continuation of important medical research, along with an influx of medical trainees that would go on to save the lives of millions, possibly billions or even trillions. 

General Hux of the First Order was dead and burned. 

Everyone called him ‘Armitage’ now.


	30. Isolation [Hux/Ani, Modern AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Teen and Up  
> Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual References  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Pairings: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character(s)  
> Characters: Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Phasma, Finn, Snoke, Ben Solo, Brendol Hux, Mentioned: Rey, Poe Dameron, Rose Tico, Dopheld Mitaka  
> Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, AU: Modern  
> Words: 4760  
> Published: 2018-08-31 Revised: 2019-04-14  
> Summary: Armitage gets on the first plane home despite being on an important international business trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.

**June 6, 20–**

_I know you’re busy but I miss you._

_Going to the store, I love you._

_It’s late here, going to bed. I love you so much._

**June 7, 20–**

_Good morning, honey!_

_Traffic is horrible, they’ll never finish construction._

_Going out for drinks with Phas, Miss you._

_Our song came on and it made me think of you._

_I love you._

_I wish you were here._

**June 8, 20–**

_Good morning, gingernut!_

_I miss and love you very much._

_I’m going to finally pick paint for the studio._

_I can’t decide between a blue and a red?_

_Or maybe a green._

_Deep colors, make it dark and cozy._

_I miss your voice._

_I’d be so happy if you could leave a voicemail._

_I love you._

**June 9, 20–**

_I am so sorry, the signal here is awful._

_I tried sending you a bunch of messages._

_I guess they never got through._

_I love and miss you very much._

_I think about you all the time._

_I can’t wait to come home._

_I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long._

_Love? You usually have sent me a  
million things by now._

_Maybe it’s just the signal again._

**_Incoming call…_ **

As soon as Armitage heard an unfamiliar voice answer his excited ‘Hi, honey!’ he knew that he’d be cancelling the rest of his business trip. 

* * *

The two had met at an animal shelter. Armitage Hux, known Old Money playboy hailing from Surrey and at the time the favourite for taking Solomon Snoke’s seat as senior partner of his prestigious international law firm, was an avid animal lover and animal rights activist. He was also looking for a companion for his Millicent after his older cat Lavinia had to be put down for advanced kidney failure.

He found one in the form of Aneirin Pritchard. The short blonde was a ranger at the nearby national forest park and had been dropping off some stray cats that had been abandoned. When he saw the embroidered patch on her khaki shirt his interest was piqued. “Is the park in need of some bears? I wasn’t aware they kept wild animals here. I would’ve asked to see their tigers.”

She’d laughed genuinely like someone who didn’t know he was made of money and oozed power. That had made him smile a little and the small pain he’d been having in his lower back went away. “You might want to stick to the 8-pound version.”

They made some pleasant small talk and she accompanied him as he walked through the kennels to find his new friend. Well, his second new friend of the day. Together they picked a sweet black cat. 

“Look at the little shadow!” The older cat meeped in response, rubbing himself against the bars of his kennel. “Your house would be Halloween all year round, Orange and Black.” 

“He _does_ seem quite affectionate.” A passing shelter volunteer confirmed Armitage’s suspicion. The tom rubbed his mouth against long pale fingers held up for approval. “I’m pretty sure my home is haunted so they’ll fit in quite well.”

“Really? I’d love to meet your spirited roommates.” He snickered but Aneirin became shy. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you… have someone special.” 

“I don’t, actually. I think you might be the first person not to say ‘girlfriend’ or a similarly gendered variant.” He’d taken her for highly conservative given the American South accent in some of her words. 

“It’s 20–, us queers run the world now.” They’d erupted into giggles while a volunteer got together paperwork. 

“And how did you know I wasn’t straight?” 

“Oh _please_ ,” she dramatically rolled the deep blue eyes he’d get regularly lost in, “you’ve _definitely_ eaten ass before.” 

* * *

Armitage had spent too much time with his head in his hands, it was hurting his whole spine. The bench on the wall across from the glass he’d been watching like a hawk wasn’t exactly that comfortable either. He couldn’t look at his phone, he didn’t want to see all the messages from his assistant and all the missed calls from Solomon Snoke. For once, the redheaded lawyer refused to answer his phone unless it was someone who cared about the person behind the glass. 

So he dug his keys out of his jacket. There was his key for the house they shared. The key to his father’s house. Of course his car key. The key to an old chest handed down through his mother’s family in which he kept special mementos that he hadn’t yet decided what to do with yet. But the thing that occupied his attention was the little charm he’d gotten for the first of his birthdays that they celebrated together. Pink, purple, blue enamel set in a heavy brass rectangle, it matched, in essence, the two charms on her own set of keys. On the back was carefully etched ‘I’m proud of you.’ It had outshone every expensive gift he’d ever gotten. 

The punctuated click of heels on the hard slick floors grabbed his attention. “Hey, Phasma.”

“Hey yourself, you look and sound like shit.” The platinum blonde gave the glass a glance before sitting down primly next to him, making sure to not wrinkle her pencil skirt too much. Her lipstick was so red it might as well have been blood from a boar she speared with her sharp eyeliner. If looks could kill, Phasma Ainsworth would be a mass murderer. “You need a shave.”

“I need a cigarette and a drink.” 

“I can help with one of those.” Long cream-coloured fingers with perfectly manicured red lacquer nails offered him a single-shot bottle of scotch whisky. Armitage cracked it open and didn’t bother savouring the taste or looking for the flavourful undertones. “I’d ask how you’re holding up, but it’s quite obvious how.”

“Christ on the cross, woman.” It took all of his energy not to burst into tears in the quiet hallway.

“Should I not ask how the princess is doing?” He shakily took a deep breath.

“They think she’ll be fine, but she has trouble staying awake.” His chest hurt. He clutched his keys again. “I haven’t gotten to talk to her yet.” 

The high-powered lawyer couldn’t bear the weight of his words, how he choked on them and coughed them up in pained sobs. A hand gently touched his hunched back and tears spilt onto his cheeks. “I should’ve never gone on that _stupid_ fucking trip.”

“It was the firm, you didn’t know this would happen.”

“I should’ve been here, I could’ve talked to her.” Armitage dried his face with a handkerchief. “She sent me all these messages that took me forever to get. What if she thought I was ignoring her? Oh, God, Phasma.”

“She knows you missed her, knows you love her. She knew you were very busy. Isn’t that what you liked most about her? That she understood?”

* * *

“You want to know something humorous?” 

It was winter and the fire was blazing. They were sharing a hand-knit blanket on the sofa, both with books in their laps. Armitage had finally admitted he needed reading glasses. The room was silent save for the crackling if burning wood. 

“You know I do.”

“I just realized what I like about you.”

“Oh?”

“You understand me. When I need space you give it to me without complaint. When I need your presence you give it happily. You are comfortable with silence and you are nice to talk to.” Aneirin began to sniffle. “Oh, no, what’s wrong?”

“I just love you so much.” He made a soft sound of adoring sympathy as he put their books down on the coffee table and pulled her head to his chest, stroking her burnished gold hair tenderly. 

“I love you too. That’s why I want to marry you.”

* * *

The damn thing was at the jeweller’s and his hand had felt naked without it. When it’d slipped off and got lost under the bed in the middle of the night he knew he needed to have it resized. Sometimes he thought about wearing it so long it would wear down to a thinly tapered break at the inside of his finger.

He would get to experience that. Armitage told himself there was no reason why he wouldn’t. The ring would be worn every day until they burned him up. 

It felt wrong to be going into the office but the fact remained that there was literally nothing he could do for his wife. He was promised that when she woke up they would tell her he’d come back and they would have her call him. He would answer no matter what. 

The whole meeting he was distracted, rubbing at the slight tan line at the base of his left ring finger. Armitage had wanted his ring to be platinum to match hers, but she’d convinced him to get gold to match his favourite watch. If the ring didn’t have a sentimental value already he would replace them both. He hadn’t bought her an engagement ring, he knew she didn’t want one.

* * *

“I would rather spend the money on, say, a nice vacation. Or do some fixing up around the house. Maybe I’ll get a new truck for work.” 

“We could do all of those things this very moment and I wouldn’t feel pressure, darling.”

“It’d just get dirty and dinged up and I could lose the stones at work.” 

“It can always be cleaned and replaced, they get insured you know.”

“Why do you care so much? You’re not wearing it.”

“I just want to know the true reason you are so opposed.” 

She shrugged. 

“I don’t need an expensive rock to know and show that you love me. The way you look at me is enough.”

“And how do I look at you?”

“How do your horrible romance novels put it? Ah yes. As if I were the sun.” 

“I like to think of you more like… well, honestly, you’re just you, but I think you’re the most amazing thing in the universe.” 

* * *

Senior Partner Snoke was talking when Armitage’s phone buzzed. The hospital’s number on the screen had him swiftly getting out of his chair around the conference table and out the door. He didn’t even wait to get to his office to hit the answer button. 

“Hello? Yes, this is he. Yes. Please.” He didn’t make it to his office before he heard her voice and immediately started crying. “Oh, Ani, sweetheart, I love you so much.” 

‘I love you too, Armie.’ 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t walk, he had to prop himself up against a wall, his rival’s office just on the other side. The petulant man was in the meeting Armitage had just run out of like a man who didn’t care at all about his career. 

‘It’s okay, gingernut, I’m just glad you’re back.’ 

“I’ll come back right away, I promise.” 

‘Don’t rush, I’ll be here. Can’t exactly just walk out. I don’t want you to get hurt.’ 

“I won’t, I won’t.” He slid down the wall to sit on the floor, legs loosely folded beneath him. People stared but he didn’t care. “I missed you so much. I wish I hadn’t gone.” 

‘You might’ve saved yourself from getting your own glass cage.’ 

“I’d make them keep me in with you.”

‘I don’t think they’d like that. Think of all the stuff we could get up to. Good thing they already have to decontaminate everything they can’t burn.’ 

Armitage Hux was sitting on the floor of a highly-respected law firm laughing with a tear-stained face. “Jesus how I missed you.”

‘I missed you too. But I know you love your work and you had something important to do.’ 

“I love you more than work. Besides, I’ve probably just killed my career. As soon as the hospital called I flew home and now I’ve run out of a meeting without hesitation.”

‘Good for you, fuck that old man. And not in a good way. You’ve done enough for him that he shouldn’t be able to complain.’ 

“You are remarkable, encouraging me to blow up my career.”

‘I didn’t marry you for your money.’

“What did you marry me for?”

‘Your good looks, obviously.’ 

“Looks fade I’m afraid.”

‘Well, then, pray your dick still works in thirty years.’

Armitage nearly passed out from laughter, he’d forgotten how to breathe. 

* * *

It had taken a while but Armitage was persistent. In the right ways. 

In this case, it was keeping his high libido in respectful check as he waited for her to open up. He’d never really been the one for relationships and so normally he would move on when someone said they were on the asexual spectrum. He didn’t think lesser of them or dismiss their problems, but he fully admitted that 99% of the time he was looking for something quick and uncomplicated. 

He’d planned on having Aneirin around for a long, complicated time. So he did everything he could to let her fall in love with him. 

People thought he’d gone crazy. 

‘She’s so… plain.’ 

‘Too short.’

‘Have you seen those legs? Ick.’

‘Needs to lose weight. Like, half of whatever she’s at.’

‘She doesn’t wear any makeup and she dresses like a college student.’

He had gone crazy. Crazy in love. He didn’t care a single bit about what people said about her. 

Armitage loved grabbing at her thighs, thick and strong. Took almost every opportunity to get a palm full of firm ass. His hands felt like they were home when he put them on her wide hips. He loved her height, it made him feel like a big protector, a tree sheltering an animal from the elements, and he got to kiss the top of her head when they embraced. He knew she was perfectly healthy and where she needed to be, physically active and careful, most of the time, about what she ate. He loved that she had a natural beauty, that the face he woke up to was the gorgeous face he saw all day. And when she did get done-up with Phasma’s help she was just as lovely with the added bonus that she became shy and he would shower her with affection to make her feel better. 

He’d fucked heiresses, models, femme fatale career women, starlets, and musicians. Handsome men who treated their bodies like temples, powerful perverts in expensive suits, ‘alpha males’ who took his cock like cheap club rats. 

That didn’t make her any less a goddess, a brilliant soul and mind guarding the earth’s natural splendour, indiscriminately praising its nonhuman inhabitants as if they were her children.

Except mosquitoes.

And wasps.

Ticks.

House centipedes. 

Any bug that got to her books. 

There were a lot of things she hated but she loved the unfortunate victims of human prejudice and misunderstanding. 

His garage had become a temporary possum hospital when someone had decided to go around shooting them with a pellet gun. 

“But they could have rabies.” 

“They’re immune to rabies, dear.”

“They’re a nuisance.”

“Okay, one: they eat ticks so they’re automatically my favourite animal. Two: they’re just trying to adapt to humans constantly fucking with everything and if you were a wild animal you’d want an easy meal too. Three: they’re adorable. They’re staying until Finn can bring the cages.” 

She kept him from beheading harmless snakes in the garden. They put up bat houses. Got proper hummingbird food and planted flowers that encouraged honeybees. He was considering starting an apiary hobby. At the very least they bought local honey. 

“You’re all the honey I need.” 

“You’re such a dork.” 

* * *

Armitage had to face the music. 

The introduction to the piece titled _‘Von einem herzlosen alten Mann aufgewühlt’_ * was the sound of Benjamin Organa-Solo arguing vehemently with their superior. 

“His wife has a highly infectious disease, cut him some slack!” 

“It is behavior unbecoming of-“

“Of a man who actually loves his wife?”

“Excuse me?”

“Just cause every other asshole in that room is fucking their secretary or has a side piece doesn’t mean we should all punish him for-“

“His attention is divided and-“

“Every lawyer joke is true, we’re apparently incapable of some basic human decency!” 

“Out!” 

The imposing mass of well-built muscle and meticulously coiffed hair almost flattened the redhead into the floor. Ben opened his mouth to say something, maybe just apologize, but his brown doe eyes flicked to the still-open door to Solomon’s office and he thought better of making the interaction known. Pouty lips mouthed the words ‘talk later’ and he was gone to his own office. 

* * *

Ever since Armitage’s mother died, his father had become cold and distant and thus the young man learned that the best way to go through life was to close off one’s emotions so that they wouldn’t hurt. The worst emotion of all was love. 

Brendol and Moira had very much been in love and he had precious early memories of his parents from when he was very young and in constant need of attention for being a sickly child. Them dancing in the parlour to old records. His father standing behind her with his face on her shoulder, watching as she cooked them breakfast. Sitting together in comfortable silence on the sofa, enjoying a warm winter fire. 

His father tried to encourage Armitage to become big and strong, showing him pictures of when he’d been in the service. His mother would take care of him and the worry he saw in both of their faces when he took ill slowly built his resolve to hide ailments. He wanted them to be happy and for himself to stop being weak. 

He briefly had a stepmother and while he wasn’t overly fond of the woman he only had to see her for holidays. The announcement of the divorce hadn’t surprised the fledgeling lawyer but there had been something in Brendol’s voice that had stirred up emotion in Armitage’s chest. It hadn’t occurred to him that maybe his father had tried to really move on and couldn’t, or that his ex-wife hadn’t returned the feelings, leaving the man to whittle away at the concept of love.

Whatever damage had been done, it had redoubled the armour the retired Army general kept on his heart. So when Armitage told him he’d found someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, the man was a devout pessimist. Nothing the son said could change his father’s mind. Typically he let his father ‘win’ their arguments by backing down, hearing the man rant and rave, and then they never talked about the issue again. 

‘What kind of woman doesn’t want children? That’s the whole point of women and marriage!’

Armitage wasn’t going to let his father ‘win’ this one. This would be the hill he died on.

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

‘You’re lovesick, what do you know? If you marry her you’ll regret it.’

“I’m going to marry her, I’m not going to regret it, and if you don’t like it, you can die mad about it!” 

‘You can’t talk to your father this way! Have some respect!’

“No, _you_ have some respect! I’m sorry, Father, that you lost mother and you’ve become disenchanted with life, but dammit I’m happy and I just want you to be happy for me!” 

A pause.

“Father.”

The soft sound of sobbing. 

“Father?”

A strangled sound. 

‘Yes.’ It wasn’t a question. 

“What?”

‘You’re right, Armitage. I miss her every day.’

A pause. 

“I miss her too, Father.”

‘She was the love of my life.’ 

“I know.”

‘Do you really love this young lady?’ 

“I do. I can’t imagine my life without her.”

‘Does she really love you?’

“She does.”

‘Yeah?’

“She looks at me the way mother looked at you.”

A pause.

Mutual sniffling.

A nose being blown into a handkerchief. 

‘Then I’m very happy for you, Armitage. I can’t wait to meet her.’ 

“You’re going to adore her.”

‘Got a ring, I imagine?’

“No, she doesn’t want one.”

Genuine amused laughter.

‘She really does love you, then.’ 

* * *

“I’m not going to apologize, Sir.” The face of a man twice his age, who’d fought overseas and had the scars to prove it, practically snarled in disgust. 

“I suppose you’re going to tell me I need to have a heart and be more open-minded.” 

“No, Solomon, because you are incapable of having either of those things. I’m not apologizing because my wife’s well-being means more to me than your opinion of my worth.” The senior partner opened his mouth to give an incredulous exclamation that died with Armitage’s next words. “I know where the bodies are buried.”

“I liked you better before that sorry excuse for a wedding.” The man hadn’t been invited. Friends and family only. In their backyard. Secular. He’d bought a white suit to be opposite the black tuxedo he’d bought for her. She looked ravishing. He thought about that day a lot, for various reasons. 

“Good thing I don’t care about what you think anymore. You’re not the only person who gets to decide on your replacement.” Armitage turned on his heel to leave but stopped just shy of the door. “Benjamin stays.”

* * *

“Christ I hate that man.”

“You’re just upset he’s more handsome than you.”

“Hah!” 

Armitage and Phasma made it a habit to share a drink and conversation at a ritzy bar a few buildings away from theirs on Fridays. The Sapphic goddess had been his friend since law school. 

“Also maybe a little bruised that he turned you down.” 

“As your existence proves, not everyone is into men.” The blonde laughed and sipped her wine. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” He’d almost expected her to tell him about a rare heterosexual encounter but instead, she pulled out her phone, did some tapping, and showed him a picture of Benjamin Organa-Solo tongue-fucking a positively gorgeous shorter Latino at what appeared to be a New Year’s Eve party. Armitage scoffed.

“Well, then, I can comfort myself with the thought that maybe he just isn’t into gingers. Or he has a size difference kink.” 

“I wonder if it’s like trying to shove a salami into an olive.” 

He choked on his drink. “Jesus!”

* * *

“ _Jesus!_ ” 

Armitage felt as if he’d died and his soul was leaving his body. Sweaty and boneless it was all he could do to remain conscious, hands weakly squeezing and stroking the hips he’d been gripping just moments before. 

“You talk different when you get all worked up.” The voice was quiet and breathy by his ear. A series of kisses were pressed to his rabbit-quick pulse in his neck. 

He’d been worried the first time they had sex that it might be awkward and not time yet, but it had been earth-shattering. After a little awkwardness.

“My mother was Irish, I suppose it comes out from time to time.” Small hands delicately combed his hair, peeling it from his damp brow. “Got my hair from her too.” 

“I like it.” Their lips touching was an unhindered transference of pure emotion. “The accent _and_ the hair.” 

* * *

“Hey, Hux, I’m sorry about your wife.” Armitage had just walked right into the man’s office as if it was his own. “Is she going to be okay?” 

“Most likely.” His tone was clipped out of habitual distaste for the man. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and let it out before opening his eyes again. “They’re confident she’ll be fine. Thank you, Benjamin.” 

“Of course. Phas told me you cared a lot about her, I didn’t think twice about how upset you’d be.”

“Yes, I love her very much. I appreciate your understanding.” Ben stood up and walked around his desk to be within arm’s reach. “May I ask a favour of you?”

“Of course.” 

“I’m going to take time off, whether anyone likes it or not. If you could oversee my portion of-“

“Of course, Hux, go-“

“Armitage.” Ben gaped in shock before chuckling. He clapped a big hand to the ginger’s shoulder.

“Go be all gross and cute with your wife, Armitage. We got you covered.” The older of the two nodded his thanks and made to leave. 

“I’m going to recommend you for Solomon’s chair.” 

“Seriously?”

“I’d rather spend more time outside of offices and conference rooms.” Ben grinned as he went back to his seat behind the desk. 

“I need to meet the woman who has Armitage Hux whipped.”

The man in question raised an eyebrow.

“The whipping is mutual.”

Laughter followed him down the hallway.

* * *

“It’s beautiful. I’m sad to say I haven’t come here before.”

Armitage had decided to surprise his girlfriend at her work, which had been a little more complicated than he thought it would be seeing as her job did not consist of sitting in one building. A coworker at the visitor’s centre at one end of the park was smart enough to find her location without tipping her off. 

“Really? I love forests and mountains. Grew up in them.”

He’d found her at a set of cottages made for campers, hunched over and shining a light under one of them. Armitage saw the nearby Animal Control truck and recognized the fellow British expat from a party where _he_ was the date. Finn Aboderin had originally wanted to be a veterinarian but after a fateful run-in with a bear, inspiration struck. The ranger and the officer were not too different and it didn’t surprise him at all that on the rare occasion they needed to call AC, Finn always tried to be the one out there. 

“It’s interesting.”

After some time of patient waiting, Armitage learned that what they’d been looking for was a dog that had supposedly gotten stuck hiding under the cottage.

“I usually go for ‘breathtaking’ but you’re English so…”

While there were plenty of animals, abandoned or feral, roaming the land like their wild ancestors, they had suspected that the canine had gotten out of a nearby community. 

“No, I should’ve finished my thought. It’s interesting that we grew up so differently. Yet here we are.”

All said and done, their quarry safely in the truck for transport, the three of them took some time to chat before Finn had to leave. The remaining two decided to take a walk down a nearby trail that met a gentle little river with a short series of waterfalls.

“Here we are. The Prince and The Pauper.” They startled some birds out of their rooster with laughter.

* * *

It still broke his heart to be separated by a wall of glass but it was much less devastating now that he’d gotten to talk to her. Armitage wished he could go in like the doctors and nurses but with an immune system just a few steps above ‘compromised’ neither he nor Aneirin wanted to risk it. 

“I’ll be out in a few days, you’ll see.” 

Despite refusing to go into work, he promised not to spend every moment in the hospital. He would come in the morning to talk to her for a few hours before she would be too tired. Then he would go back to their home to clean, something productive to keep his mind off of the ever-present layer of anxiety. People would check on them: Phasma, his associate lawyer Dopheld, Finn and his girlfriend Rey, her friends from the park, Rose from the animal shelter they both volunteered with, and even Ben. 

Armitage never realized how many people actually cared about the two of them. 

They even held a party for the recovered ranger, which left her in happy tears. 

He would never let it down that he’d cried when at long last he could hold her again. Not that anyone was making fun of him, but it was a memory he’d never want to forget. 

* * *

**March 3, 20–**

_You left before I could say happy birthday!_

_Dear we’re putting out a forest fire, not  
exactly what I want to be doing on my  
birthday_

_Sorry, be safe._

_I’ll take a steak for dinner tho_

_Of course, sweetheart._

_Wear that outfit I like_

_Yes, dear._

_Keep the stockings on_

_I didn’t realize I married a dirty_  
 _old man._

_I’m 37 I’m not old._

_Now I’m going to have that stuck_  
 _in my head all day, thank you._

_Help! Help! I’m being repressed!_

_I love you, honey, even if you’re_  
 _a dork._

_Love you too_

_And you’re definitely a dork_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *’Getting reamed by a heartless old man’ put through google translate, supposed to be a joke about Mozart’s ‘Leck mist im Arsch’ or ‘lick me in the ass’


	31. Excuse Me, Nurse? [Hux/Ani]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Having a hard time, cut a lot of my hair off last night, wrote to cope. I love these nerds so much.  
> Characters: Armitage Hux, Aneirin Reader (OFC)  
> [SFW, unrevised] Word Count: 590

The life of a doctor was stressful. The life of a military doctor was therefore especially stressful. Thus the life of a military doctor during active wartime was very very stressful. 

General Hux hadn’t seen his lady friend in a few days, something that was highly irregular. So he’d decided to go down to the medbay when he got off his shift. Upon entering through the retracting durasteel doors he walked up to the short woman, her back to him looking over a chart, the back of her head unfamiliar to him. 

“Excuse me, nurse. Where-“ his voice stopped in his throat as he recognized the chuckle. 

“Wow, haven’t been called nurse in a long time.” Doctor Reader turned on her heel, smiling up at him. He didn’t smile back.

“What did you do?!” Her face fell and she appeared ready to cry. Hux gingerly touched the short strands of hair that framed the top of her face. 

“I cut it, isn’t that obvious?” 

“But why?” 

“Just say you don’t like it and go back to whatever you were doing!” His face scrunched up as he tried to determine how he felt and he’d taken too long for she whacked him with her datapad before running off to her office. 

He couldn’t figure out if he liked it or not, the most pressing matter to him was why? She’d never cut it shorter than what would allow it to be pulled back and now it was almost shorter than his when it was freshly cut. So he went back to his office where he poured over reports. It had never occurred to him until then that maybe other people processed their stress differently. That it was possible a physician might want to get their emotions out in a way that didn't impact their judgement or health, which amounted to not being able to sneak drinks of liquor out of the bottom drawer of their desk.

Before Aneirin could get back to their quarters he lit some of the aromatherapy candles she had, set the thermostat to something that would be a little more comfortable for her, laid out her night clothes, and was set to have dinner ready for her when she walked in. She looked around in confusion. “What’s going on? Did I forget something?” 

“No, I just thought I would make the end of your day a little easier.” Hux set the table and as she was sitting down, contemplating the meal in front of her that didn’t look burnt or otherwise unappetizing, he absorbed her new hair more fully. “I don’t hate it. I just have to get used to it.” 

She sighed deeply before taking her first bite and hummed that it wasn’t that bad, which made him feel a little better. When they were done he swatted her away from trying to clean up, practically shoved her into the bathroom to take a nice warm shower together, and ready for bed. Surrounded by a pleasant smell he became her pillow, letting her wrap around him like an animal clinging to a tree, her head nestled in the dip along his collarbone, an arm thrown over his stomach, and a leg entwined with one of his own. 

“Maybe I should get my hair cut, too.” 

“There isn’t much else you can do with it at the moment.” He playfully pinched the soft section of her waist through her shirt. 

“I’ll grow it out then.” 

“You? Would never happen.”

“Beard too.”

“Now _that_ I’d like to see.”


	32. AH-1729 [Android Hux AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG  
> Warnings: Strong Language  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux  
> Additional Tag(s): AU: Android Hux, Friendship, Fluff  
> Words: 3163  
> Published: 2018-09-09 Revised: 2019-04-14  
> Summary: On Corsaira, Aneirin has made her life as a salvager and recycler. One day a shipment of space junk contains a priceless find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.

Corsaira had become a dumping ground for the Republic ever since the end of the war with the First Order. The planet’s inhabitants were known for their resourcefulness and penchant for recycling, repurposing, or reusing almost anything, so logically they were the people to turn to in order to clear up all the debris. Spacecrafts had been cobbled together and building materials for new cities on war-torn planets were remade to be shipped out. It was better than stripping planets of their resources and it meant less matter floating around in space for some poor ship coming out of hyperdrive to collide with for an unfortunate accident. The once quiet and unimportant rock on the edge of the galaxy started bustling with activity.

Aneirin was a recycler; most of the time she just helped sort the items coming in, identifying and cataloguing their purposes and composition, but sometimes she found something intriguing to take home to her workshop. Technological refuse from the more advanced planets or debris fields was always the most interesting and in such a pile she had found her companion, a sophisticated artificial dog she’d named Ben. He would help her carry things, sometimes by pulling a cart or just storing them in a type of saddlebag she’d sewn together. Once she’d fallen unconscious due to a container secured by a trap that spewed anaesthetizing gas and Ben had dragged her clear, making sure she woke up. Sometimes he would act as a flashlight or another pair of hands, but most importantly he was someone to talk to in order to not feel so lonely.

The dog had taken to barking while she was sorting through some engine parts. Upon investigation, he was concerned about what appeared to be a human hand sticking out from the garbage pile. Carefully she touched it and found it decidedly not human, stiff and with only the initial give of artificial skin. In a rush of excitement, she pulled away the surrounding debris until she could tug the android free of its prison. She marvelled at the serene face almost mistakable for someone in deep sleep, its red hair, and the tattered clothing it wore. Gingerly, she stroked its face, inspecting the damage she could readily see such as smudges and rips in the skin revealing the dull grey carapace underneath. “Who would throw you away, sweetheart?”

Aneirin hooked Ben up to his cart and somehow managed to drag the android down the pile to load him into the recycled metal box. While she was plenty strong, the artificial humans were quite heavy and she knew there was no way she could move him all the way from the pile to her home without serious damage to one of them, most likely herself. The artificial dog moved the weight easily with its enhanced joints and muscles, trotting at a decent clip ahead of her to wait by the workshop door.

Her home was simple and resembled something more like a garage or reseller’s warehouse than a cosy home. Bins overflowed with parts, things hung from pegs on the walls and ceilings, wires and cables crisscrossed everywhere and the place was illuminated by strings of small lights and industrial bulbs. Aneirin cleared off a bench she’d made out of some starship deckplates and propped her new find up against a worktable. She would spend most of her day looking it over and when she found its model number she delved into the available information on the HoloNet.

AH models were decommissioned First Order command androids designed to assist high-ranking officers on starships and important bases. The one she had found had been designated AH-1729 and upon trying to find out where he’d come from, she discovered that the most recent shipment of space debris had been suspected remnants of the former FO command vessel _Finalizer_. Using a leaked schematic she ran through a diagnostic to determine damaged systems, discovering some of his limb actuators malfunctioning and thus rendering him immobile. Aneirin would later realize it was probably for the best because when she activated him she wouldn’t have known if he was going to react violently to her or not. She watched as his face came to life and his eyes, a marvellous shade of green-grey, scanned the surroundings. They settled on her.

Explain to me where I am, human.” His voice was blunt and a little frazzled from where his vocalizer was most likely slightly damaged or askew; she would remember to fix it later. Clutching the scratched-up datapad to her chest her mouth hung open as she processed the fact that the android had spoken to her.

“Corsaira.” In her nervousness, it was all she could muster. If her new companion was annoyed he was either incapable of showing it or chose not to reveal his feelings.

“And why am I here?”

“You were in a pile of space debris I was going through.” Apparently, the android was capable of processing something close to confusion or disbelief.

“That makes no sense.” With him unable to move, she decided to sit beside him on the bench, his head turning to follow her movements. He watched as she brought up archived galactic news feeds from around the end of the war. “You are attempting to confuse me.”

“No, it’s true, the war is over.” She searched around for an appropriate cable. “You probably can’t connect to our HoloNet satellites. Here, lemme fix that.”

“Do not attempt to corrupt me, human.” Unable to physically thwart her from finding his access points and connecting him to her datapad, all he had were his words. She gave him a sympathetic look.

“I’ll let you watch everything I do. And my name is Aneirin.” Sitting beside him, she let him peer over her shoulder as she gave his system access to the HoloNet. Together they sat as he double- and triple-checked the information on the end of the war and his subsequent decommission.

“It seems that I have been rendered useless.” She let out a soft noise and stroked his hair, an action that confused him. “What are you doing?” 

“You’re not useless. I was trying to comfort you, I guess it’s a little silly to comfort an android.” She sighed, inspecting as she combed through his hair with her fingers where some of his luxurious hair had been removed in one spot, probably damaged in whatever had broken apart his ship. “Well, I’ll get you fixed up somehow. In the meantime, what’s your name?”

“My designation is AH-1729.” Aneirin already knew that but she giggled anyway like she had the first time. “What is so humorous?”

“I was born in 1729 A.H. So it’s kinda like destiny or something.” His eyebrows knitted in an approximation of confusion. 

“The year is 27 ABY.” 

“Sorry, we use a different date system. On this planet, it’s currently 1756 A.H. That is, _Anno Heredis._ ” 

“I will have to access your planet’s public information, I am not familiar with this system.” 

“Not many people are, we’re kinda quiet, on the edge of things.” She noticed the patch of light behind his left ear turn a warm orange. “Shoot, your power cell is getting low. I don’t have a compatible charging cable. I feel bad but-“

“You must turn me back off.” He blinked, unfazed by the information that caused her visible distress. “I understand.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find one, and until I do I will still work on getting you fully functional. In the meantime, I think my first act of fixing you up will be giving you a name. How about…” Aneirin wiggled her nose and scrunched up her mouth in deep thought. “Armitage.”

* * *

She did feel bad turning him off but it felt less like him ‘dying’ than letting his power cell run out. While Armitage was offline, she spent her days searching through the massive debris pile and her nights were adventures in giving him a thorough cleaning and diagnostic. The parts she needed went up on a global ‘Wanted’ list so if any other recyclers or salvagers had or found the parts they could be traded or sold. Aneirin hoped that the salvage delivered to her pile had contained some of the maintenance supplies that would’ve undoubtedly been on the Star Destroyer he was assigned to, but it would take her quite some time to find such small parts.

For the case of his missing hair, she added matching tints of red hair to her Wanted list or possibly she would find an appropriate dye to use on her own hair for the replacement. When she was too tired to work on him anymore, she would sit at the table he was laid out on and lie her head on his arm. Even though he couldn’t hear she would talk to him as if he might wake up all on his own. Aneirin was excited to have someone who could properly respond to her.

A friend.

It took two weeks to find a power cell charger and she excitedly hooked him up to her home’s energy storage. The roof was covered in solar panels that fed into a collection of batteries and then to the power grid to redistribute to where energy was needed. Knowing it would take a while for a 30-day power cell to be charged, she went back out in the hopes of finally finding some replacement parts. Aneirin was starting to think she might have to find the basic materials and take them to a machining and processing shop to have the components custom-made, but she wouldn’t have the money for the labour costs. Normally she would attempt to do the machining herself, she wasn’t a complete stranger to the procedure, but she wouldn’t want to put in a suboptimal part for such a sophisticated piece of machinery.

The Wanted List turned up enough components to fix one of his leg servos and she only had to trade some parts from a TIE fighter to get them. Running home she went straight to replacing the nonfunctional pieces and when done she turned him back on with a big smile on her face. “Hey Armitage, I’m sorry it took such a long time.”

“The HoloNet clock indicates that I have been offline 17 Corsairan standard days.” Unable to move his body, he settled for turning his eyes and head towards her. The android seemed to become suddenly aware that he was capable of moving his left leg, giving it some experimental exercises. “I am impressed that someone of your mechanical expertise was able to repair any of my functions. You also appear to have done a full servicing of my components.”

“Lots of practice with other things, just on a much smaller scale.” She squeezed the space between her thumb and forefinger to demonstrate her point about size. He eventually gave up trying to change his position and settled for swivelling his head to better take in his surroundings.

“You are a salvager.”

“Yeah, not exactly glamorous.” As the words left her mouth, Aneirin considered the possibility that once he was fully functional, Armitage the command android who came from a starship would leave in search of something more than the simple life she led. “But I like it. Other than being kind of lonely for the most part.”

“I do not experience loneliness.” His green-grey eyes scanned his surroundings more, cataloguing the items he could see, the apparent dimensions and configuration of her domicile, and the atmospheric data available.

“Maybe not but I was…” She trailed off but his eyes peering at her from between golden lashes made her blush and continue. “I was hoping we could be… friends.”

“I am incapable of human attachments or emotions. I cannot be your ‘friend.’” 

“I know but I can form human attachments and have emotions. I have Ben and he’s my friend, in a dog way.” Upon hearing his name, the mechanical animal got up and walked over to place his head on her lap, wagging his tail.

“KR units are programmed to imitate canine behaviours such as loyalty and animal-like happiness with their owners.” 

“I don’t own him, he’s his own man.”

“It is not a he.”

“Don’t be silly, of course he is. Though I guess there’s not actually any distinction. Maybe I should be calling him her? Or they?”

“It is an it. An object cannot have a gender.” 

“About 1,812 languages in just this system’s history would disagree. And he’s not an object! He’s Ben and he is my friend.”

“Then what do you need me for?” Aneirin gaped but she was quick to formulate a response. 

“Well, he can't exactly talk now can he?” The android went back to looking at the ceiling. 

“Fair enough.” They sat in silence for a moment. “In my limited capacity, I appreciate your attempts to return my body to proper working order given your… situation.”

“You’re quite welcome. I’ll try to find you some new clothes, too.” 

“I do not require them to protect my body from the elements like humans do.”

“Yes, well, I can’t exactly have an anatomically correct android walking around with me without any clothes on. People would think there’s something wrong with me. Beyond the normal.” Aneirin could practically hear his artificial brain working on the question at hand. 

“That is a reasonable justification for my remaining clothed, but I do not see the point in finding me new clothing.”

“I want you to look nice and I want to take care of you.” 

“You are a strange human.” She giggled and patted his hand, rubbing the back of it with a calloused thumb. 

“You’re a real stick in the mud. All that military protocol.”

* * *

They exchanged similarly exhausting conversations over the course of weeks while she was able to slowly piece him back together, clothes, hair, limbs and all. She, however, could not change his attitude about their supposed friendship or her humanization of him, but she wasn’t going to fiddle with his programming. When finally he could move about her home, Aneirin leapt and threw her arms around his neck. Armitage reflexively caught her and held her up. “What is the purpose of this?”

“It’s a hug, idiot, cause I’m happy you’re all better.” 

“A ‘hug’ is not an essential interaction and offers me no benefit.” His sensors felt her press her face against his shoulder. 

“I just want a damn hug, you jerk, can’t you just accept it?” He picked up from her elevated heart rate and the intonation of her voice that she was upset, possibly on the verge of tears.

“I will comply.” He applied just enough pressure to not cause discomfort but he heard her begin to weep anyway. “What is wrong?”

“I…” He couldn’t extrapolate what she was going to say so he remained silent. “I really needed a hug.”

“I do not understand.”

“Oh, shut up and hold me until I tell you not to.” Armitage stayed silent and still as tears stained his new jacket. He noticed that she would apply pressure to seemingly random parts of his anatomy though there were certain favoured areas: the small of the back, the artificial muscle over the shoulder blades, the dip of the spine, the back of the neck, and the curve of the waist. Occasionally, an open hand would smooth the fabric of the jacket where she had mussed it. Eventually, the tears stopped and the embrace was punctuated by a momentary tightening of her grip on his torso. “Thank you.”

“I do not need to be thanked, I am programmed to comply with the wishes of my owner.” Aneirin let go of her android companion, a concerned look pinching her face.

“I’m not your owner. You’re my friend.” 

“I am an object, I am not auto-“

“You’re my _friend_ and I don’t own you. You can make your own decisions, I know you’re capable of… adaptive reasoning.” 

“You do not wish to claim ownership of me?” He appeared confused by her statement. 

“How many times do I have to call you my friend?” 

“I cannot-“

“You’re my friend, shut up. Now you’re going to sit at my table and talk to me while I make dinner and eat.”

“I do not re-“

“Shut up and sit, Armitage.” 

“Of course, Aneirin.” 

* * *

Armitage had become a godsend of a friend. He was able to identify parts in the scrapheap much quicker than her, who relied on her compounding knowledge of scrap to determine good finds. Without needing to be protected from the elements or to regularly ingest nutrients, he offered to continue the cataloguing and sorting while she took care of her biological needs. The android more than paid for his energy consumption and, despite his strange attitude, he did make for a good companion.

He also made for an excellent caregiver when she caught a cold, regularly checking on her, bringing her what she needed, and assessing her vitals. Not worrying about catching her illness, he would comply with her wish to be essentially a metal-wrapped-in-artificial-skin body pillow. Through exposure and anthropomorphism, Aneirin assigned human emotions to his actions, arguing that he in fact ‘cared’ about her and was sympathetic to her suffering. The android learned not to correct her any longer; it had become obvious that her need for companionship was greater than his need to be correct.

Not everyone saw the world as Aneirin did. 

She’d forced him back inside to sit with her for a supper chat when a stern knock on her door came. Serious looking men in sharp uniforms barged in past her to take hold of Armitage. “What do you think you’re doing?!” she screamed.

“Ma’am, this is an unregistered android, it’s to be confiscated.”

“You can’t, he’s my friend!” 

“Androids must be registered by an owner.”

“He can’t be owned! He’s a person! He makes his own decisions!”

“Aneirin, please, control yourself.” Armitage’s voice had a calming effect on her. “You cannot change the law at this moment to suit your perception of the situation.”

“I-“ she swivelled her eyes between the redhead and his wannabe captors. A lump she had to swallow around formed in her throat, tears stung her eyes. “I’ll register him. He’s… mine.”

There was paperwork and a hefty fee for not properly documenting him in the first place. The men left and her dinner had gone cold. She was sullen. 

“You’re my friend.” 

“I know, Aneirin.”

“And not because I… own you.”

“You have made the subject quite clear to me.” The android started the process of reheating her food. “Aneirin.”

“Yes, Armitage?” 

“You are my friend as well.” The human started to cry and he knew what he had to do. Wrapping his arms around her shuddering body gingerly, Armitage laid his cheek on top of her head. “It will be okay, human friend. I am here.”


	33. From the Field Notes of A. Hux [Young Hux/Ani]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG  
> Warnings: Child Abuse, Strong Language  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Brendol Hux, Frederick Crath (OMC)  
> Pairing: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character  
> Tags: AU: Canon-Divergence, Young Hux, Young Aneirin, Hux POV  
> Words: 5312  
> Published: 2018-09-14, Revised: 2019-04-22  
> Summary: A young Armitage accompanies his father on a diplomatic mission to Corsaira.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.  
>  **Notes** : This was an old story that was originally posted in small parts ('entries') and I long lost if there was more to it than what I've added in now, so here it is.  
> 

### Journal Entry 1 - Day 1, Arrival

 _Local Planetary Name:_ Corsaira  
_Inhabitant Identifier:_ Corsairan  
_Planetary language:_ Corsairan, regional dialects and languages prevalent  
_Capital City:_ Malarra  
_Climate:_ Varied, includes; Arctic ice sheets, sandy deserts, tundra, temperate and tropical zones, and mountain ranges  
_Surface features:_ A fairly aquatic planet, possibly 50% of the surface is liquid water  
_Inhabitant phenotypes:_ Varied  
_Presence of non-human sentient life:_ Relatively low, contained primarily to the capital which serves as the interplanetary trade center  
_Exports:_ Grain and Animal Meat (Mostly ‘Beef’), some ores, nothing of high value  
_Technologies:_ Inhabitants seem mostly uninterested in joining the rest of the galaxy in space travel except for a curiosity to ‘see the majesty of the stars’, they are fairly simple and still use ancient technology, pride themselves on working with their hands, the only droids are protocols in Malarra  
_Defenses:_ None that would be difficult for the First Order to breach; they have nothing worth taking and are amenable to our presence  
_Weapons:_ The planetary guard have blasters and some private citizens, steel blades and ancient rifles appear to be in use in the interest of ‘discipline’  
_Overall impression:_ Barbaric, unsophisticated, weak, small, useless, soft, agreeable, a planet worth ignoring  


* * *

### Journal Entry 2 - Day 1, Midday

The people on Corsaira are idiots and I don’t know why we have bothered to come here. They smile at me too much, they presume to touch me, and they laugh at everything. The politicians Father converses with tell jokes and I can tell Father is even less amused than I am. The men have learned to sober their personalities around him, leaving their daily revelries for private discussions.

Malarra is a clean and well-mannered city from what we have seen of it. The citizens pride themselves on their ‘reasonable living’ and guardianship over the insignificant rock on the edge of space. Their happy faces are just proof that they are ignorant of how the galaxy really is.

Father and I have been invited to the countryside home of the ‘ruling’ Duke of the planet. Father seems unimpressed, but I admit that I have never seen so much green and wildlife in my life, everything seems to quiet and still even in the city. I step on the grass expecting the familiar metallic thud of deck plates, but there is only the sound of grass and dirt crunching together. Standing on a hill at the foot of the mountain, we were able to look out over the valley; I could see masses of trees with a rather large one sticking above the canopy, a winding river, and several villages made from primitive wood huts, and the opposite mountain range. There was a herd of their famous cattle eating in a field of tall green grass swaying in the breeze and until the horizon dipped in the sky I could see a sea of beige wheat and grains. Father cuffed me across the ear for staring at the landscape.

The first order of our business here was to have dinner with the household. As it turned out our hosting Duke had a daughter, a small girl with wild hair and legs that could possibly kick a small fathier to death. The first time I had seen her she was climbing the high limbs of a tree in the gardens, eating the red fruit from the branches. Her father had told her to come down, which she promptly obeyed, and she ran towards the two of us with sheer glee on her face. I knew I was here to be introduced to her, probably in the hopes that we would entertain each other while our fathers went out hunting the next day, but it would be fairly useless. This didn’t matter to her, judging by the ecstatic way she greeted me. She’d extended her dirty hand towards me and I reflexively gave it a disgusted look. Unable to find a clean patch of clothing to wipe it on she simply shrugged and excused herself to clean up for dinner.

I had expected a prim and proper lady to be the one who came into the dining room and was frankly surprised to see a girl dressed in boy’s clothes sitting at the table. The two of us were silent while our fathers talked until they had almost completely tuned out our presence to discuss something of planetary importance. The only interaction we had all dinner came when I finished my drink and, without prompting, she took the glass. Quietly she padded away and returned with two clear bottles filled with an amber liquid which she placed in front of us both before sitting back down to finish her meal. Not wanting to be rude or draw attention to myself, I drank it; it was sweet like apples but not cloyingly so. I’d finished my meal about the same time as her and our fathers continued to talk as if we weren’t in the room. Without a word she combined our dishes and took them with her. Her absence didn’t garner any attention, so I quietly left the dining room as well to go back to my studies.

I was unsure of an appropriate place to sit to read my datapad, so I wandered out back into the garden. There I found the girl wrestling a group of similarly-aged boys in the grassy patch of earth. I had intended to find a quieter place, but the absurdity of the well-dressed girl rolling around in the dirt with the plainly-clothed boys kept my attention. It surprised me how well she handled herself against them. After besting one in particular, they stood up and she offered him her hand as she had done with all the other opponents, but he smacked it away. I expected her to cry and yell for her father to complain about the rude behaviour, but she simply shrugged her shoulders in ambivalence. The next few moments passed in a strange blur.

“Fuck you,” the boy had said, spitting at her feet, but neither this nor the crude hand gesture was the thing to spark the upcoming conflict. She’d rolled her eyes, which served to anger the boy more. “You think you’re so great; your mother was a _whore_!”

What would’ve started tears ended in blood. She leapt at him like a vicious animal; on the ground they rolled around, egged on by the other boys cheering and clapping. It wasn’t until the girl had pinned the offender and, with one quick motion, pulled a small blade out of her trouser pocket and sunk it into his shoulder that anyone thought to pull them apart. The boy howled in pain while she screamed what were probably Corsairan obscenities, the other boys yelling and screaming for the staff to come outside. One managed to lift the girl away, covered in blood and still filled with anger, as our fathers came outside followed by two of the estate’s guards. Father stood next to me as we watched the Duke take the girl away and started to interrogate the group of children. “What in the hell is going on?”

The girl wasn’t intimidated. If it had been Father pulling me away from that fight I would’ve been shaking in my boots. I couldn’t understand what she said next, which earned her a harsh look and a growling noise from her father. “In Basic, Aneirin, don’t be rude.”

“He called my mom a whore, he deserved it!” The other boys came to the victim’s aid.

“No, he didn’t! She’s a liar!” Before the Duke could get a word in, she whirled around punched the speaker in the nose as hard as she could. Everyone in the cluster began yelling, but it didn’t stop her from rounding on whoever had grabbed her, giving them a kick to the knees. Finally, her father took a hold of her arm and started to try calming her down, but it earned him a blow from her head against his nose, the crimson blood pouring over his suit jacket. Like a streak of light, she bolted from the scene and into the forest, leaving behind the group and her father. Disappointment masked his face as he pressed a white handkerchief to his nose and turned back to the boys. They withered under his gaze, rubbing at their own wounds; even the guard keeping pressure on the one’s stab wound seemed off-put by the man’s look.

Without a word, they followed him back into the estate. Our fathers didn’t acknowledge each other. Father turned to me and said, “What a bunch of _barbarians_.”

* * *

### Journal Entry 3 - Day 2, Evening

Father had retired for the night, having to get up early to go on a hunting trip with the Duke, so he missed the return of the Duke’s daughter. I’d been sitting in the front room studying when the door to the estate creaked open and her small form squeezed into the house. Her cheeks were red with exhaustion and smears of blood, her once nice clothes torn and covered in dirt, and her hair was a nest of leaves and twigs. At the sound of the door closing, the Duke rushed from wherever he was to meet her in the foyer. I braced myself for the inevitable smack across her face and harsh words, but they never came. Instead, she was wrapped up in a strong embrace.

“Turtledove, do you know how worried I was?” The man was practically in tears, I felt embarrassed for him.

“I’m sorry, dad.”

“It’s okay, you’re back now, only a little worse for wear.” He pulled back to assess the state of her clothing and the scratches all over her skin. Neither his eyes nor voice was full of the anger I expected. “I need you to know that I love you, because you know I have to punish you. I may be angry, but I still love you.”

“I know, I love you too. I’m sorry.” He gingerly pinched her cheek and chuckled.

“It can wait, Ani. Let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll leave a note before I go in the morning.” With little effort, he lifted her up into his arms and carried her up the stairs. The scene left me confused but I shook it away.

Corsairans are too soft. However, Corsairans can be fierce.

### Journal Entry 4 - Day 2, Morning

By the time either of us had awoken and come down for breakfast, our fathers had left for their trip. Instead of eating in the dining room, I found Aneirin eating her food standing at the island counter in the kitchen. When she caught sight of me, she abandoned her food and went to the stove. “You allergic to anything?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I don’t want to make you something that’ll send you to the hospital. I’m in enough trouble.” 

“No, I’m not allergic to anything that I know of.” Satisfied with the answer she nodded and turned to her preparation. I found a stool and watched her cook like she’d done it every day. She served me my plate and gave me my choice of drink; I picked the same citrus liquid that she’d poured for herself. We ate in silence and she took my dishes to wash by hand when we were both done. 

Later I found her in the garden, digging into the earth with her hands and sweating in the hot sun. Along the estate’s perimeter were plants in pots waiting to be transferred into the beds. Dirt smeared her face where she’d tried to wipe the sweat away. She caught me staring and flashed me a small smile. “Did you need anything, Armitage?”

“Hux.” I kept my tone cold; I hated when other people called me by my name. They had no right to use it and I had learned to detest the sound of it from the way Father said it. A small part of me didn’t mind the way she said it but I was determined to stand by my decision. 

“Sorry. Hux.” She did actually seem apologetic. It wasn’t something I’d seen often. 

“And no.” Without waiting for her reaction I wandered back into the estate to avoid her. 

Some time had passed with me sitting in the front room reading my datapad before I became restless and unable to focus on my work. So, I started to wander around the hallways, inspecting all of the artefacts on display. Every few feet I would stop at the cases and try my best to read their nameplates, but I don’t know Corsairan. I gave each piece careful consideration; most of their uses were fairly obvious and, judging by the apparent number system, were arranged in chronological order. I came upon a painting I found particularly interesting; a woman dressed in white striking down a skeleton wearing a king’s clothes, its form wreathed in flame and arms lifted trying to defend itself from the blade in her hand. I took some steps back to better look at it, causing me to bump into the display case behind me. 

The sound of the vase breaking on the hardwood floor sent cold fear up my spine and I stared at the shards in panic. Aneirin appeared by my side and, without saying anything, started picking up the larger pieces in her hands and placing them in the largest piece on the floor by her feet. Frozen in place I didn’t help her and I was barely able to contain my jump of surprise when a housemaid came rushing up the stairs, anger plastered on her face. “What happened?!” 

“It was my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Aneirin was quick to respond, I had barely enough time to process what I was going to say before she said anything.

The maid sighed. “I’ll tell your father when he gets back. Go to your room, I’ll clean this up. Don’t want you getting hurt.” 

Aneirin flashed me a smile before going back to her room. Quietly I went back to the front room to go back to my reading, too shaken to continue my self-guided tour of the estate. 

Corsairans are too generous. However, they are loyal for almost no reason.

* * *

### Journal Entry 5 - Day 2, Evening

I had just felt my stomach ache with hunger when I smelled something delicious waft through the room. I put down my datapad and stood up to stretch my legs; they were weak and sore from keeping to the comfortable sofa for so long. Wandering into the dining room I found Aneirin sitting at the head of the table, hunched over her bowl of food and looking up to read an old book propped up on a stand. Spying me she pointed to the spot next to her where another bowl sat waiting and closed her book, pushing it to the side. With my spoon I turned over every unique ingredient of the apparent stew; it was pure curiosity since it smelled so good that it couldn’t possibly be bad. Cooling it down with my breath I took my first bite; it was heavy and rich on my tongue but it filled me with an unfamiliar comfort. Every spoonful was as good as the last, but I had to practice some self-restraint in order to not finish the whole meal in a few minutes. I paced myself by reaching for the glass of amber liquid that I had found pleasant the day before and took a large gulp only to sputter and choke at the bitter taste. Taking the glass from me, my host replaced it with a glass of water and I drank it to calm my coughs. She sniffed the mouth of the bottle with a confused look on her face and turned to me with an apologetic face. “Sorry, I grabbed the wrong one for you. Let me get the right one.” 

“What is that?” 

“Apple cider.” She laughed a little. “Well, not the right kind. The hard kind. I’ll get the normal stuff.” 

“No, I’ll finish it.” She stopped and looked at me with surprise. 

“Are you sure? You probably don’t have the same tolerance as me. I can finish this one too, don’t worry about wasting it.” I took the bottle back and took a controlled sip, earning me just a shrug as she sat back down. I noticed that she drank hers much faster than me, so I quickened my pace to catch up. “Hey, you should probably slow down if you haven’t drunk before.” 

“Thank you for your concern.” She laughed with that carefree smile. 

“I’ll get you more.” She took our bowls and returned with a second portion which I devoured quickly. I made to stand up, but it felt as if the blood had rushed from my head. Her small hand caught me under the arm until I could regain my balance. “It’s okay, you can sleep it off. I won’t tell anyone you’re a lightweight.” 

She gave me a cheerful wink and helped me back into the front room where I sat down on the sofa. Without asking for permission she sat down with a cushion’s length between us and pulled her book into her lap. I felt my eyes get heavy even though I tried to stay awake and the last thing I remembered of that day was sliding sideways.

I awoke the next day feeling warm and comfortable, the pillow beneath me soft and smelling sweet. In my haze, it took me a while to realize that whatever my head was lying upon was rhythmically moving up and down and that the gentle thumping was not the sound of my own heartbeat. Slowly and carefully I untangled myself from the still-sleeping girl, a slight snore the only sign that I had disturbed her sleep. I put the blanket we’d shared back on her before going up to my room to shower and change. 

Corsairans are trusting. Corsairans are kind. Corsairans smile and laugh. 

Corsairans are not like Father. 

And I hate Father.

* * *

### Journal Entry 6 - Day 3, Morning

Together we ate the breakfast that she made; this time I watched more closely to observe exactly how she did it. I’d never actually seen someone cook before, all of our meals were made before I’d even entered the dining area. She spoke in a calm voice that I was unaccustomed to hearing. My questions, no matter how small or seemingly simple, were answered with a happy smile devoid of smug superiority or chastising disappointment. I had attempted to make my own meal, but it had gone disastrously. When I wasn’t looking she’d switched plates with me and had quickly eaten half of it before I knew what she’d done. “It’s okay, you tried, and that’s all that matters.”

After we were done she informed me she had a lot of things to do per her punishment, so I decided to take a walk through the gardens. Standing at the base of the large tree I peered up into its branches, imagining what it would be like to have such simple pleasures as being able to play as a child. Remembering that my father wouldn’t be back for another day, I gathered the courage to grab the first limb. I’d made my way up a few before I lost my balance and fell towards the ground. Thankfully there was a leafy bush to break my fall, but its small twigs scratched my skin where my clothing had ridden up in the climb. A soft hand gripped my arm as I was trying to free myself from the shrubbery and I graciously accepted Aneirin’s help. “Come on, I’ll clean you up.” 

In the kitchen she sat me on a stool and started rubbing some sort of cream on my cuts, inspecting my arms and legs carefully for others. Wiping her hands on her trousers she handed me the small canister. “You should be fine by the time your dad gets back. Just put some more on before you go to sleep.” 

No one had really helped me before, I didn’t know what to say. She smiled and gave me a quick peck on my cheek as she passed me to go back to her chores. Taking the canister I fled back to my room to read a book on military tactics to distract myself.

Corsairans are affectionate people. I’ve never known affection until coming here.

* * *

### Journal Entry 7 - Day 3, Midday

Later that day I came down to the kitchen to ask one of the staff to prepare lunch for me, but I found Aneirin putting some food in a satchel. Leaning against the counter was one of the old rifles I’d seen displayed in a locked case and beside it was a long hunting knife in its sheath. She smiled at me and my heart stopped for a beat. “I’m going on a walk, want to join me?” 

“Where?” 

“Nowhere really.” 

I offered to be the one to carry the satchel while she strapped her rifle across her back and the knife to her belt. Into the warm afternoon sun I followed her, eating the extra sandwich she’d made for me. Periodically we passed the large canteen of water between us and the idea of pressing my lips against the exact spot she drank from made them tingle. We navigated a forest path, hopping down the occasional drop, and waded through a field of grass. As we exited we came upon a sea of wildflowers which she picked and arranged into a colourful bouquet; on the other side, there was a field of neatly arranged stones. Walking between them I realized that they were markers, but I couldn’t read the names. She stopped and regarded a certain pair before leaning down to place the flowers between them. On her knees, she began to cut away at the weeds growing around the stones and carefully rubbed away the debris. She said something in Corsairan, but it didn’t seem directed at me. “Do you still have your mom?”

“I don’t know my real mother.” I didn’t mean to answer in that fashion, the words simply tumbled out. 

She sniffled and wiped at her face. Her voice was small and sad. “I’m sorry.” 

“I didn’t realize the Duke wasn’t your real father.” It wasn’t really an appropriate line, but I was curious. 

She got to her feet but didn’t face me. “Mom and he were cousins or… old friends. He took me when my father died. He wanted me to have a good life.”

I didn’t say anything; I couldn’t imagine Father wanting the best for me, let alone a stranger. I had the feeling, however, that this girl wanted the best for me by the way she’d taken responsibility for my well-being. Silently she led me back to the edge of the wildflower field and along it we walked towards the foothills of the mountain. Seeing a particularly beautiful flower of purple I plucked it from the ground and stopped her to put it behind her ear. Her eyes were red and her face was wet from her quiet crying and something compelled me to place a chaste kiss against her lips. She blushed and looked at the ground in embarrassment and we continued our walk. Side-by-side we marched and I felt her hand brush against me before she slipped her fingers between mine. 

In the hills was a long open area that looked intentionally cleared with a series of tree trunks on one side; there she took the rifle from her shoulder and lined up a shot. The sound of it startled me it was so unlike the blaster fire I was used to, but somehow the action excited me. After a few more rounds she turned to me and chuckled at the look on my face. She ran me through the rules and how it worked before helping me line up my first shot. I’d used a blaster before, but this felt somehow very foreign. The feeling of her warm body pressed against my back to steady my hands sent a shiver up my spine. When at last I made the shot I could barely breathe I was so confused by the thoughts running through my head. She gave me a little cheer and reloaded the rifle to let me try some more. 

On the way back we helped each other climb up ridges, our hands clasped tightly together. I stared at her blonde hair as she walked in front of me in order to remember it when I had to leave. 

Corsairans are beautiful, even when they cry.

* * *

### Journal Entry 8 - Day 3, Evening

When we arrived back we were starving but sweaty and dirty. With a smile, she convinced me to bathe while she made us dinner. In the shower I couldn’t concentrate, my mind repeating the day’s events, and the water ran cold before I was finished scrubbing away the dirt stuck to my skin. Hair still wet and in my sleeping clothes, I padded my way through the house towards the dining room, following the delicious aroma of whatever she’d managed to make. At the head of the table she sat, a secret grin on her face as she cut up the slab of meat on her plate. I’d never tasted anything quite as amazing as the meal she prepared for me; I couldn’t stop myself from repeatedly thanking and praising her, which wasn’t exactly something I’d ever made a habit of.

Afterwards, she came with me to my usual spot in the front room, but this time she sat much closer to me. She must’ve cleaned herself at some point because I could smell the fruity scent of her shampoo. Instead of going for my datapad to read, I silently sat next to her to enjoy her company. Slowly she leaned her head down to lie on my shoulder, her cheek nuzzling it to get comfortable. My chest tightened and my heartbeat quickened, but I didn’t want to tell her to stop. For a while, we stayed that way until I took her hand inside of mine and gave it a small squeeze.

She sat up and my heart sank to feel her warmth move away from me, but a lump came up in my throat when she turned to face me, her blue eyes remarkably deep and soft. Gently her fingertips traced the bone of my cheek. “Call me Armitage.” 

“Armitage.” I took her face in my hands and pressed our lips together clumsily another time. I didn’t mind her arms wrapping around me, holding me close, and keeping me warm. 

“ _Armitage_.” My blood ran cold at the sound of my father’s voice; I had been so enraptured by the girl in my arms that I hadn’t heard our fathers come back. I broke the kiss as quickly as I could, turning to face the open door with my eyes wide with shock. Had I been able to see anything else I would have noticed that her father, standing to the side of mine, seemed more upset about Father’s tone than what we had been doing. 

“Father, I-“ I didn’t know how he had moved so fast but his calloused palm smacked my cheek hard, whipping my neck and throwing me to the floor. It was unclear what Father was going to say because all I heard was Aneirin’s enraged cry and the sound of a fight. Something toppled and broke, a piece of clothing ripped, and there was unintelligible shouting. The Duke apprehended his daughter and my father pulled me to my feet with a rough jerk of my arm.

“Just like your whore mother.” I was unsure what exactly my mother had to do with Father catching me kissing a girl, but I knew the insult would not go unpunished. Aneirin wrenched herself from her father’s grip, her shirt tearing, and I watched her throw something heavy with sharp corners at Father. It had only managed to clip him but I watched in abject horror as the man I thought was infinitely patient and caring smacked his daughter so hard she spat blood where she bit the inside of her mouth. The whimpering girl was grabbed by the waist and removed from the room, the sound of her sobbing fading. 

“I know the perfect punishment for you, Armitage. It appears physical lessons are no longer viable.” Father commanded my attention and I couldn’t look away from his hateful glare. “If you care about some girl on this planet, so be it.”

For a moment, a ridiculously stupid moment, I considered the possibility that they would arrange a marriage between the two of us for alliances. 

“This planet will be reduced to a barren rock we can break open later when they’re all bones.” 

I remembered being allowed to leave my Father’s presence to go to my room and pack my things. I couldn’t stop thinking about what my father had said. On my way I stopped by the door to Aneirin’s room, standing with my ear to the wood. Choked sobbing, coughing, pathetic noises. 

She wasn’t there to see me leave. It made it easier to do what needed to be done. 

I needed to forget her. 

Needed to forget the pleasant little planet on the edge of the galaxy where people were unconcerned with the happenings outside of their system.

Father rendered them unable to trade. Excommunicated from the rest of civilization. A ball orbiting a star that might as well have never existed.

* * *

### Journal Entry 9

I haven’t looked at this file since the day I left Corsaira. 

It is apt that I reopen it the day I will be going back. 

With my father’s death, there was no reason to keep the planet in isolation. It had been the punishment handed down from a petty man who could not forgive a child for wanting to defend her friend from his abusive father. 

Upon lifting the ban on communication and space travel, there was an outpouring of information. The planet had suffered a series of droughts and heavy rain seasons that had rendered crops useless and, with no relief possible from the other planets in their system, they had no choice but to cling to what little they had. The event had been unprecedented since the days before technology became prevalent but even with their advancements, it hadn’t proved enough. 

I had buried my emotional attachment to the planet enough to not let that piece of news affect me. It might as well have been ancient history. 

The pressed flower in a card sprayed with a familiar fruit scent, however, pierced straight through to some bomb in my subconscious, its detonation taking the form of uncontrollable tears.

_If you still remember me, please come see me._  
_-A_

I still keep the small note in a pocket on the inside of my uniform jacket. It has felt like a good luck charm. My new rank of Captain has allowed me a small request for leave which I have used to go back to the quaint little planet. 

Waiting for me at the small spaceport was a welcome sight. “You haven’t changed much, have you?”

“My mother was short. And the famine didn’t help.” Aneirin coughed to ward off the unintentionally scathing remark. She played with a decoration on her fine clothing. Then she gave me an appraising look from boots to my hair and smiled. “Hard to believe you’re still the boy I kissed on the sofa.”

“I will have to fix that.” I had to bend further than I was accustomed but I placed my lips against hers in a kiss that put our first one to shame.


	34. Voice from the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Characters: Armitage Hux, Kylo Ren, Aneirin Reader (OFC)  
> Chapter Tags: Force Sensitive/Former Jedi Aneirin, Malicious Use of the name 'Ben', Exorcising the Idea Demons  
> SFW, Unrevised

“She doesn’t look old enough to have been around during the Clone Wars.” 

When the news came that another Force user was coming aboard the Finalizer, General Hux sighed heavily and had a preemptive drink. Just Ren made him want to be dropped off on some remote rock somewhere to have some peace and quiet. Another one was going to have him defecting just to see them all burn. 

However the Sith that alighted from the shuttle didn’t entirely strike him as… menacing or powerful in any sense of the word. The woman was short and sweet-faced, looked fairly young for someone entering their seventies. She didn’t appear to be in any rush, seeing as she was engaging a stormtrooper in a heated discussion of… something that was rather exciting. There was a lot of gesticulating. 

“Should you be questioning the Supreme Leader’s judgement?” He felt his throat momentarily tighten but he didn’t bother apologizing as they were approached. 

“Master Reader.” It seemed that even Kylo Ren was at a loss for words. For all of Hux’s ability to read a person, the one in front of them was no former apprentice to the formidable Darth Vader. She couldn’t have been more than her mid-thirties, wore a soft expression in gentle blue eyes, and smiled at them without malice or sarcasm. Her robes were bright and crisp underneath the black thing thrown over her shoulders that had misled Hux into believing she subscribed to the mostly-black scheme of the darksiders. Upon closer inspection it was less a cape and more a shawl of a soft yarn hand-knitted into delicate complicated lace, kept on her shoulders by a clasp made of two silver brooches depicting some sort of crest connected by a dangling chain. 

She didn’t appear very interested in Ren’s scowl or his attempt to dominate the small woman. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ben.” 

“ _Ren_.” Hux could practically hear the man’s teeth gnash together in a tight jaw, but he was too busy holding down his own glee at hearing the person who made his life a living hell be mocked right in front of him. 

“Nah, you’re Ben. What did your parents go with? Organa or Solo? Or did Leia restart the whole Skywalker name? Gods, as if we need more Skywalkers in this galaxy. Isn’t that right, General?” Master Reader flashed the redhead a humored smirk and he had no choice but to strangle a snort into a cough. The strangle became real when he felt his throat squeezed again, the pressure increasing until he couldn’t hide his discomfort. Ren was quickly whacked on the arm by a small pale hand and the Force dropped away. Hux gulped down his breath, loosening his uniform collar from his neck. “Ben, it was a joke, learn some restraint.” 

“Do _not_ call me _Ben_!” 

“Oh please, stop pretending you can be someone else. It didn’t work for Anakin and it won’t work for you.” 

Hux had to step back, the air around the two palpably charged with an energy that had every hair on his body standing straight up. Kylo Ren’s expression was impossible to discern behind his mask but she was unfazed. 

“What do you know?” 

“I know that you’re no Darth Vader. You’re hardly Anakin. But you’d rather live with the legend than the truth.” Ren’s hand stopped and wavered halfway to the saber on his belt. Hux had seen Master Reader barely lift a finger. “How about you go cool off before we continue this discussion?”

He was impressed to see the other man leave in just a huff, stomping like a bantha. The air settled back to its normal recycled staleness and the dark expression on the woman’s face went back to one of kindness. She turned to the general and gave his form a once-over. “Master Reader, I-” 

“I absolutely adore that coat.” She took a step towards him and held out a hand towards him. “May I, General Hux?” 

His mouth fell open slightly as his quick brain failed to process her request. His response was a curt nod and she removed the glove of her right hand before taking one of his greatcoat’s lapels between her thumb and fingertips. “Oh, that is a wonderful fabric.” 

“Gabberwool.” He couldn’t quite figure out the scheme behind this interaction. 

“I will have to remember that.” Her hand went from the lapel to placing her whole hand on the breast of the coat and essentially over where his cold dead heart should be. His breath hitched but he soon found a warm calm radiating out from the spot, regulating his pulse and breathing, relaxing. The supposed Sith Master looked up at him with a beautiful smile. “It’s very lovely. Maybe I will have to have one made for me when I update my wardrobe.” 

Hux wasn’t sure how to answer such a strangely familiar statement. “Thank you. I quite enjoy it.” 

“I would enjoy your company for dinner, assuming you have the time.” 

“I do not know if I would be a proper companion for a meal with someone of your…” 

“Please, I’d rather talk to normal people. Talking to Ben will be like pulling teeth without the pleasure of being put to sleep or at least a nice anesthesia.” Unprompted he laughed. “Let me know when you’re available, General.”


	35. New Brain, Who is this? [Means to an End, Hux/Doctor/Ren]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon becoming Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren is insecure about what his subordinates think of him. He learns the consequences of being away too long and what his co-commander would really do to achieve his goals.  
> [Explicit, NSFW, Unrevised]

A lot can happen in a month. For Kylo Ren he managed to hardly be on the Finalizer, was in the hardest duel of his life on a disintegrating planet, and he became Supreme Leader. As a true Solo through-and-through he wasn’t actually very confident in himself despite his strong and determined exterior, and to help with that he concocted probably the dumbest idea he’d ever had. But he was a Solo through-and-through so he didn’t know that.

He didn’t know where or how he found the blond wig but it was what sparked his plan. Not many people actually wore glasses on the starship but he managed to find a pair in the medbay, making sure Doctor Reader wasn’t on duty to avoid a scolding. The technician clothes were easy enough to find. Of all the dumb names he could’ve picked, he picked Matt. He’d seen the name ‘Matthew’ in a book he’d temporarily taken out of the Chief Medical Officer’s library of books in the hopes of finding something useful about the Force or why she was like a brick wall while not particularly Force Sensitive otherwise. For a long time he was convinced she was a Force User of skill and power that rivaled Luke’s or even Supreme Leader Snoke’s to hide herself so well behind the guise of a simple doctor. The book had been useless but the name stuck out for whatever reason.

Every now and then Ren would sneak around the Finalizer as Matt, the lowly Radar Tech, in an attempt to see what people thought of him- of Ren, as the new Supreme Leader. Of course people knew it was him, no one in the galaxy had a face and voice like his, though years of walking around with the mask on had helped hide his true identity for a while. However, where physical distractions succeeded, his terrible acting failed him rather quickly. The results were less than favorable, but still he carried on. He was determined to be seen as nothing more than a technician and he’d had the unfortunate task of doing something even his ‘Mechanical Genius Skywalker’ genes couldn’t come up with on the fly, which landed him in the medbay. He inwardly groaned when he saw the familiar face of his torturer, General-Doctor Aneirin L. Reader. He still didn’t know what the L. stood for, he hated reading files.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before, and I don’t remember a new technician with your name…” She was staring at her datapad when he cleared his throat to grab her attention. She stared directly into his eyes with a little smile on her face. “Yes?”

“Are you sure you don’t recognize me?” Ren watched as her face screwed up in deep thought and he could hardly believe the next words came out of her mouth with a genuine tone.

“Nope, I’m sorry, should I?” Without missing another beat she started working on patching up the nasty burn on his arm. Her behavior had him in such a confused state that he couldn’t help the flinch at the sight of her pulling out a needle and measuring out the local anesthetic. Her face was awash with warm sympathy, like a mother. She’d sometimes reminded him of his own mother, in a way, when she was determined and stubborn and got a little bite with her wit. Sometimes it made him a little bit nostalgic, other times it pissed him off. Now was one of the first type. “It’s okay sweetheart, just one. A pinch, nothing compared to that awful burn, and then all numb.”

Aneirin has given him injections before and he’d managed to not make too much of a fool of himself, but this time he was actually in enough pain that his defense was a little down and for once he was just a little vulnerable. She was as gentle as she could have been and she’d even given him a word of encouragement. Ridiculous. While she worked he had to distract himself. “You’re really important around here, right?”

“I guess, I am a General and the Chief Medical Officer, but I wouldn’t say I’m important. Plenty of people could do what I do.” Ren always knew her to be modest and humble to the point that she drastically underplayed her strengths and accomplishments, but to hear her say it to someone she thought was just a technician, someone who was obviously so far beneath her, felt like a personal insult. “Why?”

“If you’re important then you must have an informed opinion of the Supreme Leader.” She have him a confused look for a brief moment.

“I suppose.”

“It must not be good if you’re not volunteering it.” Against all better judgement, Ren’s heart sank.

“No, it’s not, really.” Big brown eyes looked towards the floor. “Though maybe I just don’t know him enough. I don’t really talk to him. I think I’ve maybe been present for one meeting. I don’t think he likes me very much, he lets High Command deal with me while he’s more concerned with General Hux and Commander Ren. Guess I’m not as important as everyone thinks.”

His mind came to a screeching halt. Was she really talking about Snoke? How did she not know that he was dead, that Kylo Ren was Supreme Leader now? Was this some elaborate joke, was she really the deceitful, powerful Force User that he’d decided wasn’t possible? “Then what do you think of Commander Ren?”

“I think he rushes into things and doesn’t take proper care of himself. He lets himself be angry too quickly. But otherwise I think he’s fine. He isn’t always so cruel and vicious.” He remembered all the times he’d choked and shoved her with the Force, made her stay in place against her wishes. There was no way she thought he was ‘fine,’ this was definitely a trick. When she was done she smiled as she patted the bandage on his arm. “There, all better. You should report every day to have it cleaned until someone says otherwise. Please take more care next time, okay sweetheart? Have a nice day, Matt!”

He stared as she walked away from him with a slight spring in her step. What in the Maker’s name was going on?

“Hux!”

“Ren, why are you still in that getup, everyone knows who you really are. This is no way a Supreme Leader should act.” The General was a smug smudge of red in a sea of blacks as he smoked behind his desk. Ren dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand.

“Not everyone.” He hated when Hux raises one eyebrow at him. “Doctor Reader didn’t seem to recognize me at all, or do you think she’s just a really good actor. She also thought Snoke was still alive.”

“I guess you were gone for a while…” the ginger stubbed out his cigarette and laid his hands, fingers laced, in his lap. “Aneirin suffered a head injury after the Starkiller Incident. It’s possible she’d forgotten some things we weren’t aware of at the time.”

“That explains why she thinks Snoke is alive but how does it explain that she doesn’t recognize me? She’s seen my face, heard my voice. She tried map my moles once.” Hux snickered and have a wheeze when Ren silenced him.

“Maybe she forgot what you looked like, since you were gone for so long. Who knows, Ren, why don’t you just go walk down there and tell her the truth? This isn’t my problem.” He stood up to leave his office but the larger man stopped him.

“She’s your friend, don’t you care?” Hux barked another laugh despite his better judgement.

“I would care more if it was me she’d forgotten, but I find it quite amusing she’s forgotten my second least favorite person in my life.” Ren was shocked enough that the general managed to push him out of the way to go back to the bridge.

The next day Kylo, as Matt, went down to the officers’ mess when he knew Doctor Reader usually went like clockwork. People gave him weird looks, coming in here like he owned the place was a dead giveaway, but just like Hux said everyone but the woman he was there to see knew who he really was. Against the man’s advice, Ren didn’t come as himself because he wanted to see how far she really didn’t remember him. “Oh, Matt. What are you doing here?”

“General, I came to… thank you.” Why was he nervous? He was a Sith Lord, the Supreme Leader, he was anything but nervous. But that bright smile did things to him, things it wasn’t allowed to do. Things that Snoke punished him for feeling when he’d first met the woman.

“No need, just doing my job.” When he stood around still she pointed to the seat in front of her. “Would you like to sit? I can go get you something.”

He sat down almost immediately, earning him a surprised laugh. People shouldn’t be allowed to be that pretty, on a ship like this. If she was wearing a uniform it would’ve been worse. “That’s not necessary.”

“Oh, come on, you need energy to heal. I’ll be right back.” His eyes followed her as she walked away, lingering would’ve probably been a better word. She came back with a bowl of soup warm enough to have little curls of steam rising from its surface and she placed it in front of him. It was full of thin translucent ribbons of noodles and little bits of vegetables he couldn't recognize in their current state. “Enough people liked it when I made it for card night that I convinced the staff to make it now. It’s from my home planet, though not where I’m from.”

“I didn’t know you could cook.” He was taking a bite when she gave a womanly giggle, a dark mirthful sound that had no place on a star destroyer, and it caused him to choke on his food momentarily.

“How would you know that? Are you okay?” The doctor stood up to help him but he bid her sit down with the wave of his hand while he cleared his throat. “You don’t have to eat it if-“

“No, I like it.” To prove a point he took another bundle of noodles into his mouth and awkwardly ate them. When he looked up she was smiling so broadly he had to turn his eyes away to keep from blushing. He was Supreme Leader Ren, he didn’t blush! But she didn’t know he was Supreme Leader or Ren, he was just a technician. That she was soft and gentle to, smiled at, shared food with, things she’d never do for Kylo Ren. Before he knew it he was done and thanking her for her time and meal. The kind ‘any time’ that followed made something in his chest hurt.

For a few days he made sure that she didn’t see Kylo Ren and only saw Matt the radar technician; if she saw him as Ren she’d remember who he was and the whole thing would be ruined. He wasn’t quite sure what ‘the whole thing’ was but he knew that when someone (Hux) or something (the sight of Hux) had his nerves down to razor-thin wires, he put on his dumb wig, glasses, and coveralls to go see Doctor Reader. Once he even intentionally gotten himself hurt so she’d touch him for just a moment. That’s when he knew this had to stop. One last time he marched down to her office in disguise, flowers in hand (thank god Hux had some obsession with keeping some in the hydroponics bay), finding her tapping away at her data terminal with an excited little look on her face.

“Oh, look who came to see me!” Her face lit up impossibly more at the sight of him and she continued to smile as he approached her desk. She gave the flowers in his hand a curious look. “Where did you get those?”

“I like you.” The words mostly tumbled out of his mouth and hers fell open slightly in shock.

“That’s very sweet- you’re very sweet, I enjoy our little chats, I would love to know you more, but-“

“But you would never be with someone like me.” His heart fell through his chest and he fully expected to lash out at her but instead he felt numb. Then her hands brushed against his as she took the flowers from him.

“No, that isn’t it at all. I already have someone. I’m sorry.” Ren never knew she was with someone, no one else did either, it seemed. As he went back to his quarters to change he reached out in the Force to see if he could glean from anyone who she was seeing, but to no avail. It didn’t matter, this game was over. Back in his normal clothes he went to her medbay again to find her still hard at work, flowers arranged in a vase within sight. When she looked up at first she smiled, then seemed confused about should she be smiling, until a pained expression crossed her face and she had to look away. “Ren? But… you’re also…? How did you get that scar? Why are your clothes different? Where are your glasses? Glasses…?”

“You’d forgotten what I looked like, some things have changed since you last saw me.” His voice was cold and cutting, and for once she seemed hurt by it instead of aloof. When he was involved, Aneirin was more likely to roll her eyes and tell him off than look like she’d been struck by his words. “I’m Supreme Leader now.”

“I had that accident… did I really forget what you looked like?” She rubbed at her temples and scrunched her eyes together. “My head hurts. I think I need to-“

“Who are you with?!” Only her shocked stare made him realize he had said anything. Her eyes flitted to the bouquet of flowers and when he followed her gaze, he realized that they weren’t the ones he’d given her. “Him?!”

“Please, don’t hurt him!” Aneirin stood so quickly that her chair managed to fall over behind her, her hand going to the pin she always wore on her lab coat. Ren took a step back and for once he could feel a small ripple of emotion from her as the tension left her body.

“You really love him?” His voice was too soft, too scared, for someone his size, with his power, of his rank. The aversion of his eyes had her walking around the desk and her hand touched his upper arm.

“I do, Kylo. I really do.” She rubbed a small circle into his bicep with her thumb. Lowering her head, she made him look into her smiling face. “You know, I have just the book I think you’d like to read. It’s in my quarters, come on.”

He followed her like a lost puppy, feeling like a fool. On the outside he was cold and severe but inside he was breaking apart. Of course she’d never like him, he was an asshole to her. For all his strict nonsense and harsh superiority, Hux was much more reasonable in comparison to Ren. More normal. Not normal, but more so. Anyone else would’ve likely been a better choice, but there would be a power dynamic and-

The flowers he’d given her were on her coffee table in her quarters. They hadn’t been replaced or thrown away or given to someone else. He knew for a fact that she loved sitting on her sofa to read, looking out the stars, she’d undoubtedly look at the bouquet every day. Ren was staring at it as she found the book she mentioned, her touch bringing him back to reality. “Here you go. I know you always bring them back. I can make other rec-“

“You’d never like me.”

“Excuse me?” He thumbed through the book as she furrowed her brows at him. “You’re not exactly my biggest fan.”

“I had to be.”

“Why would you have to be cruel to me? Did I do some-“

“Because I was starting to like you.” He closed the book softly to inspect the cover. “That was a weakness. I had to compensate.”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” It was his turn to knit his brows.

“Why would you be sorry?”

“That you had to bury your feelings like that. It’s… inhumane.”

The next few days of Ren’s life passed in a weird fog. Hux caught him giving the man a look that wasn’t anger so it earned him a weird look in return. “What is the issue, Supreme Leader?”

“What does she see in you? Really?” He looked the man over from head to toe, even poked him in the middle. The redhead took a step back and gave his superior a look of disbelief.

“What in the Maker’s name are you talking about?”

“You’re… skinny. And pasty. That… actually, your hair is… nice. Unique. And she does seem to like green.” Hux looked down at himself, smoothing his gloved hand over his torso.

“I’m… fine, she likes the way I look, though I started doing exercises with Phasma and- wait!” He had the audacity to stamp his foot. “Explain yourself, Ren, or I swear.”

“She loves you, did you know she loves you?”

“Christ, what-“

“You even picked up her exclamations. That’s… adorable. You two are really good together.” Hux didn’t know what to do, standing in stunned silence. Ren skimmed the edge of his thoughts, to help him out.

‘She really does love me? It’s not a lie, it’s not in my head?’

“I won’t fuck with you. Either of you. I want her to be happy and that means I want you to be happy too.” Ren walked away, leaving Hux to think about what he’d done.

The Sith Lord was meditating when his datapad dinged. With a heavy sigh he got up to see what it was, surprised to see it from Gen. A. Reader.

‘SL Ren, If you happen to see Matt, could you tell him to come to my quarters, in 30 minutes? It would be greatly appreciated. He can come right in.’

She wanted to see him? This had to be some joke, she was known for jokes, but this seemed a little out of her range of humor. Like an idiot he got redressed into his ridiculous disguise, sat for a few minutes debating it, and then walked down the hallway to her door. The keypad responded to the wave of his hand and the door swished open to allow him inside. A few of the flowers from the bouquet had wilted and been thrown away, but what remained was still proudly displayed with fresh water. He didn’t find her in the living room or the kitchen, so like the idiot he was, he walked into the bedroom.

The room was filled with the sound of lovely moans, a redhead’s raspy breaths, and skin sliding against skin. Ren has a front row audience to the two generals enjoying each other’s bodies, Hux’s hands clasped firmly on Aneirin’s waist to help her ride him, their joining in full view. Her face was a vision of bliss, head thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open. Green eyes bore into brown from across the room in what was not a look of smug superiority but hungry invitation. ‘You’re next.’

The thought he read didn’t make much sense until the doctor opened her eyes and looked at him in surprise. The message had come from her datapad but not her fingers. The lovers communicated with just a look and a nod from the paler man, sparking a shift in position. On her hands and knees, General Reader bid him closer to the edge of the bed while General Hux took her from behind, his naked hands lovingly tracing lines down her back and rubbing tender circles into her lower back with a thumb where he gripped her hips. Ren watched as she undid his clothing, his already-hard cock quickly swallowed whole by her beautiful mouth. It turned him on to watch her struggle to get her mouth around him and he heard himself give a disgusting sound of delight.

“It’s a small pretty mouth, but she’s very good.” Kriff, she was, the way she swirled her tongue around, applied just the right amount of pressure with her lips, and found the perfect pattern to stroke him along with the bobbing of her head. Her spare hand held onto his hip for balance and the touch was so gentle that it sent electric sparks up his body. Ren placed one of his big hands overtop of it while the other combed into her undone hair to cup the back of her head. When her blue eyes turned up to him, it was like someone let out an animal in her room. His focus was on her but he could hear Hux reach his peak, moaning beautiful things to his lady-love as he emptied himself into her body. His red hair tickled the skin of her back as he kissed a line from one side to the other, shaking as he came down from his coital high. General Starkiller was actually capable of a joyful smile instead of something that could be more described as a smirk. “Well, do you think you can handle her?”

“I-I…” Ren looked down nervously at her face as she released him from her mouth but kept even strokes to keep him interested. Hux was already pulled away and digging in ‘his’ nightstand for a cigarette, flicking on an extra air purifier. Fuck, he was so whipped, but the Sith could see how. “I’ve never been with someone before.”

The two generals became still as statues. To Ren’s surprise, they both seemed shocked, but neither laughed. They exchanged a look again, Hux seemed to defer to her. She turned back to him as she leaned back to kneel at the edge of the bed, but if she said anything he didn’t hear it because his eyes went to between her legs and stared as warm cum mixed with her wetness slipped out of her body onto the sheets in a puddle. He bit his lip but looked back up to her. “I said, we don’t have to do it this way if you-“

His answer came in the form of him pushing her back onto the bed, lifting her up easily by the waist to move her further back so her head could lie on a pillow. Thick fingers traced a line along the inside of her thigh until it found the start of her slit, trembling as they dipped inside and his teeth threatened to break skin as she shuddered at his touch. “She’s plenty ready, Ren, I may not have that, but-“

Words died in the man’s throat as he watched in erotic horror as his Supreme Leader withdrew his fingers and sucked the Ginger’s cum off of them. “Oh, holy hells…”

Ren was vaguely aware of the other man as he explored Aneirin’s body, feeling soft skin and tracing the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck. Advice was given and adhered to, because he obviously had no idea what he was doing. But when her hands gently touched his face and pulled him down for a kiss, he lost all of nervous energy. She wanted him; Hux didn’t order her to kiss him, Ren didn’t order her, she did it herself. Everyone in the room groaned as he fit his cock inside of her, having to work in increasing lengths of thrusts to fit her to the thicker size. After a a few minutes of his brain being on fire, Ren stared as long pale fingers touched his partner perfectly to elicit the most beautiful sounds the knight had ever heard. He would’ve been embarrassed about the time, or lack-thereof, to reach his peak, if the woman underneath him didn’t cry out with the other general’s mouth on her neck.

He was surprised to see Aneirin so calm and boneless, barely responsive to words and touches. Kylo was encouraged into the next room after he fixed his appearance. “Why did you set this up?”

“Because I want you to do something for me.” The ginger, in just a bathrobe, sat in one of the chairs near the viewport and rearranged the flowers to look more appealing and full. “And because she actually likes you.”

“What?” He sat down in the other chair, feeling too awkward to look into those green eyes. “To either of those things.”

“I don’t know, she’s like that. Big heart, caring, loving. Complete opposite of me, everything I needed.” Hux laced his fingers together and placed his hands on his crossed knee, looking intensely at his superior, who was sweaty and still red in the face from the passionate event. And a little embarrassment. “I need you to end the war. Preferably… peacefully.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Shit, you’re in deep.” Hux shrugged. “Why peacefully end a war you were so determined to win?”

“I want to spend the rest of my life with her somewhere other than a star destroyer and it would mean something to her if it ended peacefully.”

“I’ll do it. And you’ll help me, because I don’t know what I’m doing.” The general’s lips curled into a smile and he actually laughed. “That’s a little scary. What are you doing?”

“Being happy, Ren.”

“You can be happy?”

“Yes, I know, it’s unbelievable. Now, if you don’t want to get roped into having breakfast food at 2200 hours, I suggest you leave soon before she comes back to reality.” Ren stood up and Hux followed him to the door. The Supreme Leader stopped short and turned, causing a dark eyebrow to be raised.

“Why did you tell me to come dressed like this?”

“She said you showed your true colors while she didn’t know who you were. I thought it would be symbolic.” Hux tilted his head slightly. “And it’s kind of satisfying, seeing you dressed like a lowly technician.”

“I really don’t know you, do I?”

“Not in the least. She’s up, so unless you want something called ‘French Toast’... shoo!”


	36. The Supreme Leader's Pets [Means to an End, Hux/Doctor/Ren]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Virgin General Hux gets roped into a sordid power-play three-way.  
> Contains: That sweet peach getting tossed, Cum Eating, Face Sitting, Female Ejaculation, A Lot Of Cum, Ass Fucking, Throne Sex, Humiliation, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Boot-on-Head, Fluff, Cuddling  
> [Explicit, NSFW, Unrevised]

Hux knew the new Supreme Leader favored the other General and while it burned him (why else did he work so hard) he was also a little proud considering how much the previous Supreme Leader despised her. He was pretty sure the man just had hated women for whatever reason, because whenever the other two co-commanders would disobey or ruin carefully laid plans (it was always Ren’s fault) she was the one punished in front of them as an example. Sometimes she was the subject of corporal punishment even when they weren’t around, but the redhead would see her gait disturbed as she left the audience chamber. She would usually get up and brush it off, returning to work like a good soldier, but the last time Snoke had picked her right off the floor and they watched in horror as she dangled, uselessly trying to free herself, only to fall to the floor when she was unconscious. When the feed was broken Hux went into a panic, but Ren, with barely contained anger, picked the doctor’s limp body off the floor and carried her to the medbay, a worried general nipping at his heels.

General Hux knew that the other two weren’t exactly friends but it came as little surprise that Ren would rather speak to her than to him, because the two men were even less likely to be considered even civil. He even caught them chatting over meals in the officer’s mess like the scene wasn’t mystifying in its own right. What came as a surprise was the Supreme Leader summoning him to the audience chamber; with the Supremacy destroyed the room was refitted to resemble something closer to a throne room. When he entered he nearly backed out immediately.

Against all popular belief, he’d never had sex with someone and let the rumors of his insatiable appetites circulate as an ego boost. With his little mind tricks Ren knew they weren’t true and he played the threat of letting the truth slip on a few occasions of minor argument. The general of course had thoughts but ultimately decided his focus and time was better used elsewhere, like winning the war. There was no doubt in Hux’s mind that what he’d been summoned to was meant to humiliate him with this fact.

There were no Knights, which the redhead praised the stars for, but the chamber echoed with a pleasured female voice. General Reader’s cream-colored skin glowed in contrast with the black throne and Ren’s black attire, drawing in the pair of green eyes wide with shock. The blonde’s Head was thrown back against the Supreme Leader’s shoulder as the man lapped and sucked on her exposed neck, his big hands helping her wide hips rise and fall over his own. Hux couldn’t tear his attention away from the place where they were joined, her red swollen cunt clinging to a cock that, from the distance he was standing, looked like it was almost as thick as his wrist. The damn thing glistened in the low light with the copious amount of liquid flowing around it. “I can’t talk to you from all the way across the room, General.”

Hux swallowed down a lump before approaching. The closer he got the louder the doctor’s moans and the squelching sound of their bodies moving against one another’s. He came to stand a few paces away and he could see that while the other man wasn’t as horrifically endowed as he first thought, he was still more than impressively thick and the movement of the woman’s lower abdomen told him that Ren had length on his side as well. One of the gloved hands moved from waist to between the pair of thick milky-white thighs to rub circles around a swollen clit, eliciting a whine from its owner. The general tried to keep the waver out of his voice. “How may I be of service, Supreme Leader?”

“Just a minute.” The redhead was about to argue, against better judgement, when Aneirin’s groans became even more labored and loud, her body shuddering as Ren grunted. Hux couldn’t help turning bright red as he had to stand watch as his Supreme Leader filled his Chief Medical Officer with his cum as they orgasmed together. It was like watching two TIE fighters collide in midair as the thick spent cock was slowly removed, letting the voluminous deposit spill and drip out onto the mirror-polished durasteel surface of the throne’s dais. “Clean that up, General.”

Hux’s face contorted in a show of disgust but he knew that to disobey meant physical repercussions until he did as he was told. He started to retrieve a handkerchief from his pocket when the brunette tutted in disappointment. “We can’t let it go to waste, General.”

He didn’t know what his superior meant until a Force shove had him on his knees and then Ren’s booted foot found the crown of his head, ruining the perfect styling, to force him to lower it to the floor. His body shuddered with the willpower it took not to burst in either rage or humiliated tears as he tentatively used his tongue to clean the floor. It wasn’t a pleasant taste in the least, he didn’t expect it to be, and at some point he heard himself gag, but he finished his task. Ashamed he lifted himself into a kneeling position, head bowed not only in respect but also to avoid eye contact. “Now my precious friend here. I believe you two are acquainted.”

General Reader was one of the few people he’d consider a friend, so Hux knew Kylo was being snide about it. He turned his attention up through his golden lashes to see her still breathing heavily and more or less in blissful semi-consciousness. The Supreme Leader was holding her up so all that needed to be done was move closer, lean forward, and swipe his tongue from the bottom of her gorgeous slit up to her over-sensitive clit. The mixture of semen and natural lubricant actually sent a spike of pleasure straight to his cock and her shiver of being touched too soon didn’t help the growing strain in his uniform trousers. Unbidden he dipped his tongue into her and attempted to seal his lips around her hole to suck out anything left. She whined deliciously and Ren sat her on the arm of his seat when the other general pulled away, licking his face clean.

The brunette opened his mouth to speak but already Hux moved even closer to be between the man’s knees and lapped his spent cock clean. There was nothing to be done about the robes other than having them properly cleaned so when finally the redhead could stand up, his Supreme Leader gave him a dark satisfied smirk. Hux felt himself being touched without there actually being a hand down his trousers and he gasped as he felt practiced expert control of the Force caress him quickly to climax, a strangled moan bubbling up from his throat. “Maybe next time I’ll save some for you, General.”

* * *

General Hux didn’t know what kind of perverted circus his life had become but the fact remained that he enjoyed it more than he thought he would. He put up a good show of being inconvenienced and disgusted but he could only pretend so much when being prepared to take the Supreme Leader’s thick dick by the tiny doctor while Kylo pounded her into a whimpering puddle and the Force milked the general’s cock dry.

Once he’d been given the ‘gift’ of jerking himself off onto Aneirin’s stomach and chest and he of course, because it was his new responsibility, had to eat his own cum off of her soft skin, eliciting giggles where his tongue tickled her. When he was done, Hux got lost in her eyes as she stared at him, smiling, and it took all of his willpower not to kiss her. “Do it,” he heard from a chair in the corner of the room and so the two generals crashed their lips together, hands ruining perfectly done hair, spent bodies rubbing against each other. But all good things had to come to an end and he was bid to leave the Supreme Leader’s chambers.

Finally he was ordered on his back. After Doctor Reader spent mind blowing time licking and finger-fucking his peach of an ass, Ren felt it was time to partake in his other general and threw the man’s long legs over his shoulders. Hux whimpered and mewed pathetically, begging to be fucked, as he was stretched open by a well-lubed cock but when it brushed against some hidden spot he didn’t even know he had, the ginger threw back his head to cry out in surprise pleasure and his dick twitched against his soft stomach. When the Supreme Leader could manage a few strokes without damaging resistance, the lady general braced her thick legs on either side of her co-commander’s head. He did his best to pleasure her in between his gasps and moans and judging by the sounds coming from above him, it was working. He felt her clit harden and he was practically drowning. Eventually Hux’s body couldn’t take it any longer and he let out a deep almost pained groaned as he clenched around the invading cock while his own released thick ropes of cum all over her back and his stomach. Unburdened he redoubled his tongue’s efforts and was rewarded with near-death by female ejaculation.

Apparently their superior couldn’t take it any longer either because he gave the general’s ass a few more hard thrusts before his deep growl filled the room and his hot cum filled his chosen dick sleeve. A big hand wiped the mess off of the doctor’s back and she licked thick fingers clean before Ren gave Hux’s thigh a firm smack of approval and walked off into the refresher to wash off. The red-haired General was trying to even his breathing, still coming down from his high, while his company lapped up the sticky remnants on his stomach. He whimpered, both from how erotic it was to finally see her doing the job of giving tongue-baths and from the pain starting to seep into his body. “Don’t worry, Hux, I’ll make you feel better.”

“I couldn’t possibly fu-“ a short finger closed his lips.

“Not that, silly.” Aneirin smiled warmly at him. When Ren was done with the refresher, walking out into his living room in nothing but a black satin robe, she made a warm bath for the aching man. The Supreme Leader’s refresher was remodeled to be much larger than the Generals’, sporting a big deep bathtub and a separate shower that was the proper height for the massive beast of a man. Like her sweet normal self the doctor helped her co-commander into the bath, the water opaque and the smell unrecognized. Whatever it was leeched into his body to soothe his muscles and bruised skin. There were a few candles lit on a shelf that perfumed the room and gave it a gentle glow. As he soaked she stepped into the shower to clean herself, coming out smelling like apples and a flower he knew was orchids, a plant she took very particular care of in her office.

The water was starting to go cold and so she once again helped him as he got out. At first he thought that it was preposterous until his knee almost gave out and his life flashed before his eyes. Her body stopped his fall and she continued to aid him in getting to the shower to rinse off and wash out his hair. Without his own toiletries he couldn’t fix his hair but he did use her spare comb from the vanity to comb it out. Upon reentering the bedroom he found she’d quickly changed the bedclothes and left his uniform, primly folded, on the corner of the made bed. The Supreme Leader and the Chief Medical Officer were nowhere to be found, so he left after giving the room a last cursory glance.

* * *

“You can fuck her.” They were the most beautiful words Hux had ever heard. The only ones that could beat them were ‘Emperor Hux’ or he’d even settle for ‘Supreme Leader Hux’ or ‘Grand Marshall.’ The two others were engaged in intercourse, no surprise, but he was getting a good show. “Once I’m done with her.”

So his first opportunity to stick his dick in something would be sloppy seconds but after all of the things he’d done, he wasn’t really bothered. Ren didn’t take his time and it wasn’t long before the redhead could do something he’d thought about many times. The Supreme Leader gave her ample behind a smack and went to sit in a nearby chair to watch. Hux didn’t really need any encouraging but Aneirin still kneeled on the bed in front of him to run her tongue all over his already-hard cock. He pulled her head away by the hair, knowing he couldn’t last long if she continued. He also knew the man in the corner was probably expecting something sordid but what happened was quite the opposite.

Like two lovers finding each other for the first time, Hux leaned his partner back onto the bed and kissed her passionately, her lips swollen from where they’d been assaulted by Kylo. His naked hands wandered her body and rutted his hips against hers, feeling himself glide against her. When finally he slid his cock inside in one fluid motion, he groaned and his eyes squeezed shut. Later, given the opportunity to be the first one in, he’d realize she wasn’t really that loose, the muscles well-exercised, but she was definitely warm, wet, and inviting. Their watcher didn’t have any objections as the act became more passion and intimacy than dirty and rough. They licked and sucked each other’s necks, hands felt soft sweaty skin, and their hips rolled against one another’s in a perfect rhythm. Two voices moaned out pleasure as they climaxed in tandem and the tall general practically collapsed on top of the smaller one in exhaustion.

When Hux rolled over he noticed that there was no comment from the gallery because it was snoring, sitting in the chair in some incomprehensible position. He took this opportunity to talk to his co-commander candidly. “So what did you two do before bringing me into the mix? A big Knights of Ren orgy?”

Deliciously destroyed she was lounging with her head propped up on a pillow, letting her eyes rest. Aneirin smiled and laughed. “Nah. Kylo is actually very sweet and attentive when it’s just us. All lovey and cuddly. It’s like being hugged by a friendly warm cloud.”

Hux tried to process that information, unpacking the reality of a soft snuggly Ren. “Then why all the filthy stuff?”

She shrugged. “He thought it might convince you to join in. He likes you, I like you, you like me.”

“It surprised me but yes, I do like it…”

“But you like soft and sweet too.” He couldn’t deny that. She patted the spot beside her and when he was settled in to lying down she curled up to his side, resting her head on his chest. “You’re cold.”

“You’re like a furnace.” There was a sheet crumpled into a haphazard pile on the floor beside the bed and he used his long arms to pluck it up, throwing it over them both. “Warm me up.”

“Aye aye.” At some point Hux drifted to sleep and when he woke up for a moment he realized that somehow the three of them managed to share the bed. He shrugged and let his heavy eyes put him back to sleep.


	37. I'm Here About Your, Uh, Radar? [NSFW, Hux/Doctor/Ren]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt gets called in to 'fix' Hux's 'radar.' Supreme Leader Ren struggles with the thought that he's just being used for his huge dick.  
> [NSFW, Explicit, Unrevised]

In some ways the charade was fun, pretending to be someone who was ultimately meaningless. As it turned out, Matt the Radar Technician wasn’t all that meaningless. A special little message found its way to him. ‘Come to my office. I require your skills.’

Apparently his skills were showing up to General Hux’s office near the bridge dressed in technician orange, looking and feeling awkward. The ginger liked watching Ren get on his hands and knees, expertly open a panel (having seen his father do something similar plenty of times on the Falcon), but then fumble to pretend fixing an imaginary problem. The door would be locked, he’d hear the observer undo his uniform trousers to stroke himself (gloves still on), and then he knew he’d have to get to his feet.

Despite being Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren had become Hux’s plaything in an amorphous three-person relationship. Because he was lonely and found at least some comfort in it. So when the redhead wanted it, the Jedi Killer took out his thick cock to be worshipped. He had to admit the man was much better at it than the other one, but there was a size difference issue to consider. The two Generals were like night and day, Ren was either dusk or dawn depending on his mood. Hux was always eager to get a hole, usually one and then the other, around the brunette, while the timid doctor liked to be touched and warmed up.

Instead Ren bent the General of his Army over a desk and rammed the life out of him, his perfect peachy ass already prepared for the visit. Hux liked to scream, whine, and cry, both out of pain and ecstasy. He wanted to be broken in two, choked, and brought to an earth-shattering orgasm that saw the front of his desk splattered in semen, his ass filled with a huge load. All he asked was to not have his hair touched, as if it didn’t become wild and limp like his cock from all the sweat and vibrations.

Cleaned up and put back together, Ren was given a ‘Back to work, then’ for his trouble. He almost Force-shoved the man against a wall but he decided against it. The Supreme Leader had just gotten back to his quarters, mentally preparing to do some rigorous training when he was summoned to the medbay. Well, Matt was. He considered ignoring the doctor’s strangely meticulous and official request but he went anyways, almost on the verge of tears as he walked through the office doorway.

“Oh! Look who it is!” General Aneirin Reader had been very obviously deep in research or paperwork or whatever it was she did at her desk, but her face still lit up to see him. She got up and fixed her waistcoat where it rode up. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ren was tired of the side-talk. The small woman stopped a few steps away from him and her face reflected confusion.

“What’s wrong?” He clenched his jaw and refused to look up from the floor.

“I’m just a fuck toy to you two, why did I ever-“

“What?” She didn’t even let him finish, closing the gap between them to place a hand softly on one of his biceps. “Why would you think that?”

“Both of you calling me into your offices like it’s some dirty game.” The angry glare he shot her made the doctor flinch but she didn’t move away.

“Kylo, I-“

“If all I am is a big dick, then-“

“I didn’t call you here.” A moment of silence hung between them. “I must’ve messed up the address for my request. The new head technician’s name starts with ‘M’, it must’ve gotten mixed up in auto-complete. I need something fixed and you’re not exactly the man for the job.”

It was Ren’s turn to say ‘what?’

“I thought you came to visit me, to be sweet.” Aneirin sighed. “I’m sorry, I think Hux’s behavior is my fault. When he’s extra stressed his sex drive goes up but when I’m stressed it goes down.”

Kylo didn’t like seeing the smaller general blame herself, it reminded him too much of his own dissatisfaction with himself. So he tilted her chin up to look at his smile. “It’s not your fault, don’t worry about it. At least one of you cares about me.”

“Oh, sweetie, we both care.” She laughed as she sat them on her couch and leaned her head on his shoulder. “He’s just a weirdo and has trouble expressing it. Also, I’ll kick his ass when I see him again.”

The two sat and talked for a few minutes before something needed the Chief Medical Officer’s attention. Later Kylo heard that she in fact had kicked Hux’s ass. Literally. In the middle of the bridge.

Hux apologized.


	38. Nighthawks [Songfic, Hux/Aneirin, Modern]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU, Song-based fic, SFW, Unrevised

Armitage Hux wasn’t sure how long he’d be in LA so he hadn’t bothered finding his ideal apartment; he went with something in a reasonably nice neighborhood and didn’t fight for the top floor. He was glad he did so, for one night when he went to close his blinds he looked out the window.

_I see you_

She was lovely, in a simple easy way, not the carefully manicured look of a Los Angeles woman in her 20s thinking she would get discovered walking down the street one day. Her sandy blonde hair shone under her ceiling light like a halo, he couldn’t tell what color her eyes were but he imagined they were beautiful and one could get lost in them. Most importantly, she looked as lonely as he felt.

_You see me_

His heart stopped when their eyes met.

_Eighteenth floor_

He was stuck in place, his hands on the cord of his blinds.

_Across the street_

She smiled and waved her hand to him as she approached her own window. He only nodded his head and resolved to close the blinds. She couldn’t know that he’d been watching, that he wanted to watch her, wished the distance between their buildings was close enough that he could’ve opened the window and reached out to her. He tried to not make it a habit. Tried to make it look like he was doing anything but looking for her. He knew her schedule because he knew when her lights came on. She worked late and woke up late. She always looked tired but he was tired all of the time too. Sitting on his couch, lying on it so he could face the window while pretending to take a nap, he could watch most of her coming-home routines.

_Sometimes you dance_

She wasn’t shy about moving around her living room, twisting her body to a beat he didn’t hear, earphones indicating her courtesy regarding noise. He enjoyed this part, getting to watch her expend all of her pent-up energy, become red-faced with effort and breathless. She almost always went to her bedroom to take a shower afterwards. He was thankful for the frosting on their bathroom windows because he wasn’t sure if he could control himself; he only once caught a glimpse of her in just a towel and it had caused him to blush and hide his face like a schoolboy. He could watch her through the windows, but he would respect the dignity of her naked form.

_Sometimes you read_

He of course never saw the titles of the books she would sit and read on her couch or her bed, but he appreciated that she read at all; so many people these days lost the value of words and ideas. Hux became excited on the first Saturday of every month; it was the day she bought new books. He’d watch with curiosity, whisper to himself ‘what did you get this time, my little bookworm?’ while she tried to find more room on her crowded bookshelves. His heart flipped with joy when he saw her face brighten at a particular purchase and he would pretend he had to remind her to eat because some books she refused to put down. He imagined her sitting in the bath, steam rising from warm water opaque with bubbles smelling of lavender, reading with rapt attention until she was sitting in a cold soup of soap and skin. He’d chuckle and take her book away, help dry her off, she would get on her toes and capture his lips with her own before snatching her literature back.

_TV dinners, fall asleep_

She bought groceries once a week, on Sunday, and he could tell she was small compared to her counters and appliances, so he knew she didn’t need much food. Sometimes she would eat large meals and they would be the only meal he saw her eat that days. He imagined she was an amazing cook; he’d stand behind her and hold her waist while she chopped vegetables, would taste the soup from the spoon and go ‘mmm’ with delight. He’d eat ever last speck of her food and maybe if something was good enough he’d throw manners to the wind and lick the plate or bowl clean much to her amusement. So it made him sad when he saw her come home, weary and worn from working and only managed to make one of the frozen dinners she kept for such occasions. She’d immediately go to bed afterwards, falling into it heavily and she would skip all of her little routines that made his day worth it. He wished he could be there to make those days better for her, because he knows that she’d make his bad days better for him.

_Do I ever cross your mind_

_Through your window in the sky_

He wondered if she ever thought about him; did that first time seeing him through the window seal his face in her memory? Did she ever catch him looking and not bring attention to it because she liked him watching? Did she ever watch him when he wasn’t looking? Did she think about him in the shower, sleeping in his bed, want to make meals for him or sit on the couch together to share a quiet moment to read their books? When she went to the store did she reach out for his hand like he found himself sometimes doing, turn her head to speak to him?

_When you forget to close the blinds_

_So do I_

Sometimes she remembered to close her blinds and it served as a reminder that she had a right to her privacy, but most of the time she left them open. And he was thankful for his one intimate moment of the day. He’d leave his open too in the hopes she will see him again, see how lonely he is, see how much he would benefit from hearing her voice, feeling her embrace, smelling her hair.

_I see you_

_Check your phone_

_Wash the dishes_

_Fold the clothes_

Seeing her do such domestic things made him feel normal, like he was part of a little family. He liked to wash the dishes at the same time as her, so he could look up through his lashes to see her scrubbing away at her sink. She’d fold her clothes on the bed and he laughed at how many times she’d walk away, tired of the task or distracted by some thought. When she’d look at her phone he felt a pang of jealousy, wondering who she was conversing with, especially when she smiled. He had to remind himself that she wasn’t his girlfriend, that normal people had family and friends they cared about, or that it could be no one in particular. He only answered his phone for work; he wished he had her number, because he would talk to her every day.

_Sometimes you stay up_

_And get stoned_

He wasn’t one for drugs; well, he smoked cigarettes he knew he shouldn’t and drank a little too much sometimes. He could tell she smoked, but it was LA and there were a lot harder drugs she could be doing. It wasn’t like she did it often; on her days off or after what looked to be particularly hard days that caused her to cry when she came into the room. His heart would hurt watching her be in such pain, but she eased it away with food, reading, a bath, and some sleep. Hux finds he’d try everything at least once with her; he imagined she was the type that appreciated an attempt and would let it go if he didn’t want to do something again.

_But you always sleep alone_

What made Hux especially happy was seeing that she never kept anyone over. Men didn’t go into her bedroom. They didn’t spend the night. She always slept alone, always slept in her bed unless she went on a weekend trip. In his mind they always had a chance; there was no one for him to take her away from. She could be his, if he could ever find a way to speak to her, to formulate a series of words that didn’t make him sound like a creep.

_Do I ever cross your mind_

_Through your window in the sky_

She probably thought he was a creep, if she ever knew he watched her. That in his head he had a life with her, imagined her voice or how soft her fingers would feel on his skin. She smelled of coconut and some exotic oil while menthol smoke clung to his clothes, scotch on his tongue, and the oil he combed through his hair before work would sink into his skin. Her cooking filled the small apartment with the scent of herbs and spices.

_When you forget to close the blinds_

_So do I_

One day, he wouldn’t have to imagine. For now, he just left open his blinds, hoping she would too.


	39. Colour Me In [Songfic, Hux/Aneirin]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Companion piece to my art [here.](https://tituswritingblog.tumblr.com/post/176859389018/i-must-be-real-cause-somehow-i-feel-that-im) Based on the song "Colour Me In" by Broadcast. [[Youtube Link]](https://youtu.be/zYRihVXNyY4)  
> Chapter Specifics
> 
> Universe: Canon  
> Character(s): Armitage Hux, Aneirin Reader (OFC)  
> Tag(s): Hurt/Comfort  
> Unrevised
> 
> *!*Warning(s)*!*: Self-harm, Dysphoria, Mention of Child Abuse, Anxiety, Anxiety/Panic Attack

“Please explain.”

Hux had been called into Aneirin’s quarters under the pretense of a ‘friendly chat’, ‘some tea’, and ‘something to check out.’ That ‘something’ had been what appeared to be a portrait of him, done with ink on a piece of yellowed paper. While she had called it ‘a handsome depiction,’ the sight of it made his palms sweaty inside his leather gloves. He felt his chest constrict around a pounding heart he could hear in his ears, almost drowning out her words. “Well, it’s just a little experiment I wanted to try. I had Dopheld draw it up for me, I’m afraid I don’t really have the same knack at it as him.”

“He’s obviously quite… talented.” He cleared his throat and she chuckled lightly like silver bells.

“He was excited about it, at the very least.” Beside the paper were some art supplies laid out and prepared where necessary. “I want you to color it in.”

“Why didn’t you have the lieutenant do it?” His tone had been a little too biting and he could see her face twitch in discomfort. She’d become confident in the face of Ren and imposing troopers like Captain Phasma but the soft spot she held for him in her heart meant it was much easier for him to wound her with just the wrong inflection in his words. “And what is the purpose of this test?”

“It’s not a test and if I told you then I risk the possibility that you will aim for what you think I want to see and not what comes to your mind naturally.” She smiled invitingly with humor. “I made copies in case you want to try again. And of course I gave it my own shot, we can compare notes afterwards.”

So Hux took off his gloves and after some fussing about it he made himself as comfortable as he could be. He was giving it careful consideration like everything else he did, experimenting with the feel of her supplies on spare paper to better understand how the final product would look. At some point she’d excused herself to her desk on the other side of the room to field some questions from the medbay, which left him without an audience to this ludicrous test.

He’d started with greens and yellows, for whatever reason. He supposed that it reminded him of his time on verdant planets, places far away from the cold durasteel of the Finalizer. They blended into a sickly color.

Then came blues and purples. Brilliant and beautiful skies he no longer had the pleasure of standing under. The depths of her eyes when he stared into them. A mottling of color that looked like bruises overtop healing ones.

Lazily he colored in the black of his uniform, mostly to cover up some stray color that bothered him because it wasn’t where he wanted it.

The color he dreaded most was red but it was necessary to use. He hated the color, it brought on an awful feeling that shook him to his core like some primal response carved into his very bones and cells. He wasn’t as careful with it, he wanted to be done with it. His vision tried to unfocus to avoid looking too closely. The watercolor smeared everywhere and he refused to redo this ridiculous excuse for an exercise so he tried to fix his divergent strokes and splatters.

_An absolute mess_

**Hux**

_A mistake_

**Hux?**

_Just like you_

**Hux!**

_A hideous twisted soul_

**General!**

He remembered the sting of father’s knuckles breaking his _protruding_ **sculpted** cheekbone. The tight grip of his hand around his _weak_ **delicate** throat. Being dragged by his _disgusting_ **beautiful** hair along the floor while his skinny legs kicked uselessly. Blood flowed from his _appalling_ **cute** nose. His _pasty_ **creamy** skin was covered in marks that took weeks to fade.

**Armitage!**

_A repulsive name_

**Stop!**

_For a repulsive_

**Armitage!**

_Repugnant_

**Please!**

_Loathsome_

**No!**

_Bastard._

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” Hux came back to the present to the sound of the doctor’s distressed crying and the sting of antiseptic as she cleaned the wound on his arm. He didn’t remember being injured but he could see that his normally meticulous uniform jacket was wrinkled and bloodied. With blank interest he inspected his arm, streaks of angry scratches oozing red where she hadn’t staunched the bleeding. Under the fingernails of his opposite hand was the skin he’d torn away. A bandage was applied and as if afraid to scare him away like some baby animal, Aneirin gingerly sat beside him on the couch. “I didn’t think you’d have that response. Please forgive me.”

He didn’t like upsetting her, it hurt his heart. So he accepted her embrace because to reject it meant upsetting her more and the truth was he enjoyed it, the warmth, the smell, the gentle pressure. He listened to her heart, a normally steady beat erratic and hard. She stroked and kissed his hair, the only person in the galaxy allowed to do so. Without needing to be told he mimicked her deep rhythmic breathing. “You’ve always wanted what was best for me.”

“I just want to help.” He felt something hot and wet splatter on his face, rolling down his forehead to run down his nose as if he’d cried the tear himself. “I’m always here for you. You know that, right?”

“I do.” Hux let his eyes close even though he was afraid of what he’d see on the back of his eyelids in the darkness. “Tell me what this test meant to you.”

“That you still live with the words your father used to control you.”

‘Why did your hair have to be _red?_ ’

‘Can’t even pretend you’re not a _bastard._ ’

“Do you know why you blocked part of it out?” Hux didn’t remember doing it but if he was in his right mind he could see how it would be concerning. At least to someone who possessed the emotional capacity for genuine compassion.

‘Don’t you dare talk back to me!’

‘Don’t presume to look at me with those filthy eyes.’

“Help me.”

#### Colour me in. 


	40. Slow Dancing in the Dark [Hux/Aneirin, Modern]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG  
> Warnings: Excessive Alcohol  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Ben Solo  
> Pairing: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character  
> Tags: AU: Modern, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers  
> Words: 2110  
> Published: 2018-10-07, Revised: 2019-04-22  
> Summary: A romance a long time coming blooms on New Year's Eve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.  
> Inspired by (But not totally based on) Joji's [Slow Dancing in the Dark](https://open.spotify.com/track/0UyljEbX9dqI1K0sqdv6B6?si=jL4miqjHQTKzzjCKk7YjJg)

From his first day at the new elementary school to the day before he left for university, Armitage had always had a friend. A soft-spoken skinny little boy had found a loyal companion and fierce protector in Aneirin. The day they met she managed to wrestle another boy, one who had decided he needed to pick on the new kid because of his accent and weak appearance, and bloodied a nose in his defence. She’d gotten in trouble but as she walked away she turned her head to him and smiled. Looking back the feeling in his chest had been him falling like a brick in love.

When she’d been the taller one he felt like he had a big sister, someone who was really the sweetest person in the world but wouldn’t let anyone hurt Armitage. Slowly he caught up and eventually sprouted, making it his turn to be the tree sheltering an injured bird from a storm. He wasn’t the strongest person but he’d found his voice and confidence; combined with his stature and sharp gaze they proved to be adequate defences.

Girls and boys had tried to catch his eye and while they were certainly pretty and handsome, none of them compared to her. Ani understood him, had accepted him into her pack. She made him feel wanted for more than his looks and even though she admired his cleverness and intelligence he didn’t question that she liked every part of him. If only she saw him as more than just her friend.

Armitage had asked her to be his date for prom. He’d expected her to say no, that another more handsome and stronger boy had asked her, but the moment she said ‘yes’ had been the happiest of his life. Picking her up wasn’t the awkward ‘you’re not good enough for my daughter’ meeting with her father, seeing as he’d known the mountain of a man for most of his short life, but his pale hands with the faint freckles on the back were still sweaty and he’d felt like he might faint. Ani was never a flashy or girly person and maybe to anyone else it would’ve been underwhelming to see her walk into the foyer in a vest instead of a dress, but it was the nicest he ever thought she looked. He managed to stab himself with the pin for the boutonniere he was putting on her vest, but the picture her mother took immortalized the small damning smile on his lips, dusty cheeks bright red.

People had made snide remarks, that they looked like a pair of queer boys, but Armitage had made her promise not to make a fuss and he promised in return. It wasn’t worth it, soon they wouldn’t see these people ever again. Soon they wouldn’t see each other. He was going back to England for school and she would fly out west for her own college. The acceptance letters had bolstered his courage to ask her out, though the words ‘as friends’ had unfortunately slipped from his lips. Even then she was still attached to his side and when the lights dimmed even more and a slow song started it was his shoulder Aneirin’s hand rested on as they turned in small circles. The perfect moment to kiss her passed while he was lost staring at the shine in her blue eyes, the smallest smile tugging the corner of her lips.

Over the summer they still talked and visited each other, went out to their favourite places and did their favourite things. She drove him to the airport, stood to watch him walk towards his gate, and waved when he turned to see her one last time. Maybe they weren’t such good friends if a time difference had them losing touch, but he blamed himself more than her. He’d never been enough and she deserved to find new friends.

So Armitage threw himself into school and eventually work. Trying to make new friends for himself was unsatisfactory. None could compare and he’d come to expect only the best. Deep in a little hole, he buried his need for emotional intimacy, for being accepted as a person instead of a cog in a machine whose worth was quantifiable. Somehow it had been easier to validate himself by how much he made, the quality of his performance, the number of people who answered to him, and the importance of the names in his contacts. It was as natural as breathing air to accept a new position if it meant better pay, even if it meant moving back to America.

His heart had leapt into his throat to see the familiar figure from afar. He’d almost convinced himself to approach her when a handsome man beat him to it. Aneirin laughed the way she used to with him, so carefree and familiar. The man touched her shoulder and she didn’t act offended or uncomfortable. Armitage told himself that, of course, she’d found someone better than him; he wasn’t a part of her life anymore. They didn’t coexist in the same department and so he did his best to avoid her, anything to spare himself from picking apart his feelings like a nervous macaw. He knew that if they spoke he’d rip out his own heart to please her and to spare himself the pain of the life being slowly squeezed out of it.

“Oh my god!”

He probably shouldn’t have come but to miss his first Christmas party at the new office would not have reflected well on him. It had been a little difficult to pace himself, owing to the lack of his normal self-control to the change in his life, but he still managed to keep his demeanour reserved as he turned to the voice.

“I can’t believe it! Armi, it’s really you!” Aneirin’s face was bright like the lights around them and she held her arms out, expecting a hug. Armitage stayed calm, one hand in his pocket with the other wrapped around his drink.

“I hardly recognize you, Aneirin.” It killed him to see the excitement fade from her face, slowly replaced by confusion and then disappointment. Her arms fell to her sides. He asked plain questions and she gave answers tinged with sadness before her new handsome friend whisked her away, but not before passionately introducing himself to the redhead.

Armitage had been surprised to be invited to the New Year’s Eve party that Aneirin’s friend Ben had planned. Maybe he wanted to rub their happiness in his face or he was just trying to be nice to the new person. Every fibre of the Englishman’s being that sought to protect the fragile remnants of his gentler emotions failed the battle with his utterly pathetic need to see his old friend. He would’ve been embarrassed to admit he was about four drinks into the night when he let himself into Ben’s apartment, the music audible in the hallway. It wasn’t hard to find his fifth drink and he was somehow comfortable enough to speak to some of the coworkers he recognized outside of their business attire. Always out of the corner of his eye could he see the familiar blonde, laughing and dancing, not in need of him anymore.

He was working on his seventh drink when the imposing mass of muscle, the marble statue brought to life, Ben stood beside him, both watching the middle of the living room where most everyone was dancing. The apartment had been massive and Armitage knew that there had to be more than the company salary filtering into the man’s pockets. “You know, she talks about you a lot.”

“Oh?” Armitage tried to sound uninterested but his ears burned with the need to hear more.

“I must’ve heard every funny story about you two at least five times, and there are a lot of them.” He wasn’t sure what the purpose of the conversation had been seeing as after this bit of information Ben walked away to talk to some other partygoers. Armitage managed to find the bathroom, using it for both the unfortunate side effect of copious alcohol consumption and to let his face betray an emotion in privacy. When he went back into the apartment he found a darker corner where he nursed a drink he knew he shouldn’t be having.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Something had bumped into him, the lights turned off leaving only the lights of the city through the windows to illuminate the space. The something had been the only and last person he wanted to see. Maybe it was good he could barely make out the outline of her figure.

“‘Is okay.” He expected her to go back into the living room, leaving him alone in the dark with his pathetic sadness and a few too many drinks in such a short amount of time on a nearly empty stomach.

A slow song started.

“What do you know, we danced to this at prom, didn’t we?” Armitage didn’t know if the heat he felt was from her body or his own. Maybe just the air for the apartment kicked in.

“Yeah.”

“I remember you needing a bandage when you stabbed yourself on my corsage.”

“White rose.” Red had seemed too romantic, but it still felt like it needed to be a rose. Something sentimental.

The drink in his hand disappeared, taken and placed on a side table. Tentatively he followed the void made by her path like a lost puppy looking for its master. Her hand, small, soft, and warm, slipped into his and the other rested on his shoulder. He placed his own hand very gently on her hip, pushing through the alcohol haze to maintain a respectful distance. Slowly to the sway of the song they spun around in small circles, barely able to see the other. Faintly he could see the glow of the city lights on her cheek, revealing a face tilted up towards his own. Something suddenly glinted on her skin and he became aware of how tight his throat was.

“Armi?” She was the only one allowed to call him that. They were Armi and Ani. Correction, they had allowed someone to call them ‘Armani’ once for the pure fun of it, but he couldn’t remember who it was and what it was about, only that they’d laughed until their stomachs hurt. He sniffed back some tears.

“Yes.” He’d barely been able to get the word out. Her fingers squeezed his hand, his hand on her waist daring to make its grip a little more firm.

“There’s something I wanted to say back then. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t brave enough.” His lungs burned when he forgot how to breathe. Party guests started counting down. The music had stopped but they kept turning in their little circles, the song imprinted on their memory from a long time ago. When she spoke up again he could hear the strain of emotion in her voice, the same pain he was feeling in himself. “I love you. I never stopped.”

_Three!_

Armitage was the one to stop moving.

_One!_

In the dark he managed to find her lips, his nose brushing hers like a blind man’s cane. She tasted like fruity drinks and her fingers were in his hair. As people cheered for the start of the new year he pulled her close. Letting go meant she might leave and never come back.

Nevertheless, they had to pull apart eventually.

“I’m really drunk.” Later he would mentally punish himself for not having a more appropriate response but it had seemed important at the time.

“I live a few floors down, you can stay the night. Avoid all the mess out there.” A sigh escaped his lips at the sensation of her hand cupping his warm face.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that, Armi.”

“You should be with that other guy. His handsome-erer than me.” She chuckled at his current poor command of language and it wasn’t just the alcohol that made his stomach flip.

“Ben’s gay, Armi.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I think I’m going to throw up for once. But somehow I’m happy about it.”

With her help, the more immediate instance of sickness passed and his protector took him down the stairs to her own smaller place. There was a lot of apologizing with his head looming over her toilet but somehow he ended up in the recovery position on her bed. The worst hangover of his life became the best as it was soothed with a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

“Happy New Year, idiot.”


	41. Blood from a Stone [Hux/OC]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A planet shrouded in darkness and horrific rumor is set to be the prime source of a material for Starkiller, and General Hux finds only himself to be fit to negotiate an agreement with the mysterious guardians of the mountains.  
>  **Tags and Warnings** : Force Sensitive Original Female Character, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Implied/Reference Torture, Psychological Torture  
> NSFW, Unrevised

General Hux had insisted he go in this mission to the soulless Outer Rim planet; he reminded himself that this was his idea and that no less than five of his support staff had made sure he was sure about his decision. He chastised them for questioning their commanding officer but now, if he managed to get out of this mess, they would receive the rarest of apologies. It was debatable which task would be more difficult.

The planet was rich in resources that were necessary in Starkiller’s construction. Its inhabitants were an unknown; they rarely left planet or communicated with the outside world. Traders claimed it to be a strange place with faceless people and smugglers, christened with a new scar or a missing appendage, spread rumors that they encountered women made of shadows that sucked their blood. Being in the lawless region of the galaxy, and partially due to these rumors, no government had made plans for diplomatic visitation to “the black planet.” That was until Hux’s pet project was in desperate need of the rare metal found deep in the mountains surrounding the one city known to outsiders.

The fact was that the General trusted no other officer to be stalwart in the face of these crazed fairy tales, so it had to be him that went. Ren refused to be part of the delegation to the potentially hostile planet, claiming he was “unconcerned” with the progress of the super weapon, and Captain Phasma was left to defend the Finalizer while Hux was absent. In his private shuttle with him was his pilot, four storm troopers, and a lieutenant willing to prove himself to the general. Lieutenant Mitaka was left to oversee that day to day functions proceeded as scheduled on the flagship.

Strapped unclothed to a metal table in a cold and featureless room, Hux reconsidered his first plan of bringing the Finalizer and simply leveling the unknown native inhabitants. The reason he had not was the possibility that the assault would render the ore unattainable, which would be a great loss. The loss so far was the life of his pilot, the storm troopers and his lieutenant as they alighted from the shuttle. It had happened so quickly that he’d barely had time to process the altercation, memory only served images of their bodies going limp and spraying blood, shadows shifting under a moonlit sky. He’d lost consciousness after something had pierced his neck, so precise it had to have been an injection.

Groggy, he did not know how much time had passed, only able to guess that it had been many hours by the pain of hunger. The only light in the room was dim and flickering, swallowed by the impossible blackness of the walls. Looking at any spot too long filled him with inexplicable dread and nausea. His mind, the only weapon he had, was failing him. He was no fighter, there was no hope of overpowering his captors if the scene on the landing pad was any indication. All he had were words and his worth to the First Order. For all he knew, these unnamed people had attacked on sight because he was First Order.

He had no more time to think as a door swished open and a dark figure stepped inside. Hux did his best to seem agreeable but not weak, but as the flickering light revealed a faceless visage he felt unnerved. It was unclear if it was only a mask, it had to be, but it hugged the figure’s skull as if it were skin. Under the crook of its arm was a roll of black fabric - everything was black as night in this place - and pulled from it a blade that caught what little light there was. Hux held his breath but he dared not look away. Even with his attention trained he only knew that the blade had met his skin when he felt the sting of the wound across his chest and watched blood bead up through the skin. The figure was passive and offered no explanation or questions; it replaced the blade into its sheath and walked stiffly from the room, leaving Hux to catch his breath in ragged gulps. What absolute hell had he placed himself in?

* * *

It felt as if it had been many days since he’d seen another figure. No food or water was served him, these monsters apparently beyond any common decency. His blood was dried to his chest, the cut since scabbed over, and his sweat chilled his skin in the cold air of the room. He was eventually visited again and was poked and prodded with needles and more blades. When he asked for an explanation or demanded to see their superior, the shadow-man wordlessly reached out with a finger and Hux felt his body filled with electricity. After days, possibly weeks, of no food and only fitful uncomfortable sleep, he had no energy to protest his torture. It was obvious that this was all in the name of pain and demoralization, but he was never asked to divulge information.

That was until one day when, as the door slid open, it was not the familiar faceless shadow. Instead it appeared to be a human woman, her face passive under the flickering light. She stood tall against the door frame before it closed behind her, a robe hid her figure but Hux was in no state to judge this new assailant’s figure. In two long strides she was so close their faces were maybe only a foot apart.

“What was your purpose here, stranger?” The voice was like a void, it swallowed any other noise with its almost robotic tone. Blue eyes stared unwavering into his face as his eyebrows rose and jaw slacked in surprise. A slim hand swooped up to grab his throat, but it hesitated barely above the skin; he could feel a gloved fingertip lightly tap his jugular as if the hand shook. Her face remained set as stone and eyes were locked with his.

“Diplomacy,” his dry throat barely offered. It was hoarse and felt like only a whisper; he was embarrassed at the way it sounded in his own ears.

“For what purpose.”

“The ore… under the mountain.” He winced, his normally rigid defense against interrogation crumbling from days, or weeks, of no nutrition or rest. The information was thankfully not as important as other things she could have asked, such as the codes he used in operation of the fleet or the design of Starkiller.

Her mouth opened to start a sentence, but he saw a muscle in her face twitch and her mouth shut tightly. Her eyes looked to her hand, as if the sight of it repulsed her. Unexpectedly it unclenched around his throat and traced a light line down his bare chest until it reached the largest of gashes he’d earned the day before. From what the general could make out, her eyebrows furrowed first into confusion and then into anger, a grimace pulling at her lips. In a ragged motion she pulled off one of her gloves, revealing a thin pale hand. She held her breath as she pressed her fingertips against the enflamed tissue, his breath hitched as she ran them along the wound. The touch felt warm and the skin in its wake slowly stopped stinging. He looked down and watched as the cut knitted back together.

But before she finished she hissed in pain, withdrawing her hand as if bitten by a viper. All emotion that had broken through was again replaced with the frozen mask, the glove put back on with a rigid finality. She turned to leave the room, but before the door opened he heard, in a more menacing tone, “we will speak again General.”

* * *

What he assumed was later that day he was again set upon by the faceless torturer. His body still felt the pain but he had no more energy to scream through his raw thirst and he instead hung in his restraints limply, only tensing when struck.

It was not long after the menace left that a shadow slipped into the room, hiding in the dim light. He heard rustling, like someone struggling with their pockets and then the telltale sound of metallic food packaging. When the shadow finally approached he recognized the woman from before, but her demeanor was completely different. Instead of an emotionless mask her eyes were full of pain, lips in a deep frown, and he noticed the red streak of a cut along her cheek. He eventually realized that she was holding a package with a thin tube sticking out of it up to his face.

“Drink, please, I don’t have much time,” she said, the soulless cadence of her previous questions replaced a wavering whisper full of desperation. Hux refused to take her offering, his eyes calculating what would be in it. She stuck the straw briefly between her lips and took a small sip before holding it back out. “Please, it’s all I could get for you.”

He stuck out his neck and gulped the strange liquid down, figuring it was either harmless and in his best health or she was putting him out of his misery. When he was done she quickly stuffed the empty pouch into a hidden pocket of her robes and hesitantly wiped what little had gotten on his face with her hand. She made to place her hand against his chest again, but before it made contact it pulled back again like a whip and she made a sound of strangled pain. Her figure straightening, the hand flashed out in the flickering light and smacked him across the cheek. Before she turned to leave, he saw tears trickle down her face and blood come up where she’d bit her own lip. Like a vapor she was gone into the hallway.

Hux did not know what to think, but the liquid she’d offered him was filling his body with a gentle warmth. Days of thirst hunger began to slack and the burning of his muscles receded. He almost dared to believe that his torture wounds were healing quicker than normal. In the wake of the interrogator’s mysterious visit the torturer’s efforts doubled, but Hux was filled with new strength. It would be many sessions before the woman would slip into the room again.

When she did come to see him, she looked like a wounded animal but she produced another packet of nutrient slush with only little complaint. Her gait was altered, favoring her left leg and careful when placing the right foot. She did not use her left hand and he saw it slack by her side. He could see the healing of a black eye above her cheek, the split of a lip and a thin mark along her neck. As he sipped her offering he came to the conclusion that she was being punished for helping him, but he could not decipher the strange dichotomy of her behaviors. It was as if there were two minds, one the calculating terror and the one before him now, kind and anxious. She muttered apologies and things he couldn’t quite make out. When she placed her hand against his skin he flinched, remembering her sudden act of abuse, and she whimpered as she backed away from him. This time she seemed determined to leave before she would turn on him again, turning to the door before squaring her shoulders and walking out as stoically as was possible.

* * *

A pattern seemed to form: he would be sliced and poked several times before the woman would come back with her packet of slurry, a new injury attempting to be hidden. A few times she would arrive as the stone golem he first met, only serving him with questions and a few blows. When he’d see her again as the kind half she would apologize for what she’d done and laid her healing hands on the wounds she’d given him. It was probably a ploy he was foolishly playing into but he figured that at least it kept him alive. A day had passed without the faceless man coming to torment him as usual. He’d almost missed the ritual of the interaction when a figure darkened his doorway. Of course it was her.

No words were exchanged between them but this time his visitor was more deliberate. She not only gave him the slurry but produced a bar of something sweet, it faintly reminded him of the chocolate he’d eaten as a boy on Arkanis but the tiny squares she broke off to feed into his mouth were bitter. The first one made him involuntarily sigh in satisfaction and he heard her laugh under her breath.

She took a piece for herself before offering him another, alternating until the bar had been used up. He’d been filthy from weeks of being strapped to the table and offered no accommodation, something he’d been acutely aware of but powerless to do anything about. It came then as a surprise to him when he felt something cold and wet against his skin, a soft cloth she’d hidden in the folds of her cloak dipped in a bucket of water sometimes used in his torture. She started with his neck, working her way down the less ruined parts of his body. He’d closed his eyes with the pleasant sensation, thanking the stars that for whatever reason she’d been given the time to wipe away the sweat and blood caking his skin.

Hux was however not prepared to feel the horrible sting in his loins as she carefully worried at his inner thighs with her cloth. The skin was raw from all manner of offending fluids and he was unable to hold back his initial cry of pain. A soft dry hand came up to his face and cupped his cheek. Unscrewing his eyes and looking through the bleary shroud of pain, he saw her worried expression, tears threatening to fall from her own eyes. “I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have to go through this. But I’ll make this better, I promise.”

Before returning to her work she gripped one of his hands bound near his waist and with every cleaning stroke she squeezed his hand back as he held back his whimpers. It felt like an eternity of excruciating pain but when she was done he felt a wave of relief. He went to thank her when he saw her face contort in pain and she shook her head from side to side between her hands. When she stopped she quickly came to him, her lips by his ear and she whispered, “I just need more time,” before planting a kiss on his shallow cheeks. In great haste she fled from the room.

It had to have been less than a day before the door slid open again, but this time it was neither his torturer nor his compassionate interrogator. The light that had been previously dim and flickering rose to a level still not bright but harsh. Through squinted eyes it allowed him to see the frame of an impossibly large man, a mountain of bulging muscle that had to be at least a foot taller than himself. His face was hidden by the hood of a cowl and a mask made from black stone and in his hand he dragged the interrogator by her golden hair. Every muscle in Hux’s body pressed him forward as the sickening thud of her body being thrown against the floor echoed through the room. He looked up at the man, green eyes wide in fear.

“I do not take kindly to a First Order pawn coming into MY home and distracting MY daughter from her work.” The voice boomed and roared like the sound of a fighter engine powering up. Hux swallowed what little spit he had before looking down at the woman whimpering on the floor. He regretted it as her father reached out, grabbed her by the arm and raised her off the floor, feet dangling helplessly. She cried and pleaded, grabbing at the thick wrist holding her up. Her face was pressed against the lifeless mask and she cowered, eyes tightly shut to avoid looking at anyone in the room. “You are WEAK, a powerless pawn in my plan. You disappoint me.”

Hux bit his lip as he watched her be thrown across the room like a doll, the sound of the impact with the wall ringing in his ears. Forgetting her broken body, the towering giant turned his attention again to the General. “I know your master, little pawn, and I know he is not coming for you. Do you know why I keep you here?” Hux shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. The man grabbed his throat roughly in one hand, squeezing tightly. “Because I want your master to see what I am capable of.”

He released him, leaving Hux to gasp heavily, lungs burning. The great beast of a man left without ceremony, the light returning to its normal dim flickering as the door closed. Desperately he wished to call out to his broken benefactor but his throat could not make the noise. Instead he whined and eventually broke into involuntary tears. He’d held hope, against all better judgement, that Supreme Leader Snoke would send for his rescue, but every day that passed eroded his confidence. Now he felt betrayed, even if the brute had been lying. Roused by the sound of his tears, the woman began to find the strength to get off the floor.

Eventually she approached, attempting to merely brush the tears from his cheeks, but she collapsed against him, her hands clinging to his shoulders to keep her upright. Her breath was shallow against his neck, he felt the wetness of blood or tears stain his skin where they touched. She whimpered against his ear, “Please forgive me.”

One hand slipped from his shoulder and her body went lax, he cried thinking her dead, but he heard the deafening roar of a lightsaber come to life and the crackle of burning electronics. The cuffs holding him in place unlatched and he would have fallen to the floor had she not been holding him up. When he’d regained some stability, weak from weeks of immobility, he felt the warmth of cloth being tugged around his shoulders. He buried himself into it like a child hiding in their blanket and took a deep breath to gather the scent in the collar. It was indescribable but he knew it to be the smell of her.

The next events were a panicked blur. His savior had grabbed him by the hand, forced open the door by burning out its control panel, and pulled him into the unfamiliar hallway. The entire place was dim, all light sources feeding into an entirely black decor. Their bodies limped together through the winding hallways, gathering strength as they filled with determination. Hux had almost shrieked when he watched her blade flicker out to remove the head off a faceless figure like the one that used to prod and slice at him. He saw it to be no more than a droid. Reaching down she picked up its fallen blaster and pressed it into his free hand. He clung to it and her hand like a life raft.

The further they went the more resistance they were met with, but it didn’t seem to matter to his savior. Each enemy seemed to fuel some inner fire and her technique became more fluid with each flick of her wrist. Droids fell in showers of sparks as she reflected their blaster shots, a few grazing her skin and putting holes through his borrowed cloak. He did not know where she was leading him until they came into the open air and he saw his personal shuttle where it’d landed. They rushed aboard, almost tripping over each other in their haste, his companion stopping just long enough to close the doors. He stumbled into the flight command ahead of her, practically falling into the pilot’s seat, and focused all of his energy into getting them off the ground.

Engines roared to life and the informative displays lit up. After a few seconds adjusting he felt the shuttle break away from the landing pad. Alarms went off as a fighter came in from the side and he braced for the inevitable impact of its fire but it never came. Looking through the viewport he saw the fighter tumble through the air and go up in a rain of fire as it rammed nose first into the looming mountain. His sensors indicated more incoming crafts but one after one they fell off the radar. It wasn’t until they broke the planet’s atmosphere did he finally let go of the breath he’d been holding.

He set course for his rendezvous with the Finalizer, keeping an eye on their tail, but any fighter that attempted pursuit seemed to back off. When thirty minutes passed without sight of any followers, he punched in the autopilot codes and turned the seat around.

She was kneeling on the floor, hands braced underneath her as she shook. Blood poured from her nose and her breath was shallow and irregular. In a fit of panic he went to grab the medkit but when he collapsed beside her she tried to push him away. Repeatedly she insisted on being fine, for him to pay her no mind, but eventually her body relented and gave way. He turned her over and pulled her head into his lap, rifling through the medkit’s contents without knowing what to give her, eventually finding a coagulant booster. Her body remained unconscious and limp as he pressed the injector into her neck and she didn’t stir as he used a sanitized cloth to wipe the blood from her face. The surge of adrenaline leaving his body caused him to break into tears, not knowing what else to do and feeling so weak. Hux sat like that, her head cradled in his lap, knees soaking in her blood, for what felt like hours.

He had no strength to move her, so when he did gather his wits he removed her cloak from his shoulders and made it into a makeshift pillow to put under her head. Cold and naked he briskly walked through the shuttle and into his private quarters, thankful he kept extra uniforms in case of emergency. Buttoning the jacket to his chin he noticed how loose the clothes felt and he sighed in disappointment. He looked into the mirror, dabbing at his bearded cheeks with his trembling fingers, but in his mind there was just the echo of the beast’s words: what I am capable of. Hux grabbed the modest blanket and pillow from his bed and walked back out to the cockpit where his guardian’s body laid still on the floor. He didn’t know why he did but he placed the pillow next to her head, crawled down onto the floor next to her and threw the sheet over them both. He gave her face one last look, tracing the cuts and bruises she’d gotten, before setting his head down and immediately falling asleep.

* * *

His sleep was fraught with nightmares, images of faceless men and a massive bear that ripped the skin from a blonde woman who tried to save him. He was thankful when he was woken up by the sound of the ship’s commlink. Wobbling to his feet he padded over to the controls, but not without looking up to see the stars blacked out by a massive object: the Finalizer. He scrambled to answer the hail, the familiar voice of Lieutenant Mitaka came over the speaker. “This is Lieutenant Mitaka, requesting the status of General Hux’s private shuttle.”

Hux cried silently, gathered what composure he had left to answer professionally, and ordered that the lieutenant and two medical officers be the only ones to meet him in the hangar. He felt the familiar shudder of the tractor beam pulling them in to the ship, watching the maintenance crews scatter from the deck on his orders and five figures rush out to meet him. Quickly, in a show of decorum befitting his position, he removed the blanket and pillow from the floor, leaving his companion uncovered, and threw them into his quarters. When he returned the lieutenant and medical staff were staring at the mess on the floor with mouths slightly agape. “What are you waiting for!” He barked, snapping them to attention, and glared at them as the men, with the help of two droids, lifted her body onto a gurney and wheeled her as fast as was safely possible out of the shuttle. Mitaka stood, back straight but his face showing uncertainty.

“Seeing as the Finalizer hasn’t gone up in flames in my absence I commend you on your command, lieutenant. I will be taking an indefinite leave, I leave her in your capable hands for now. My only order is that you send the second wing to the black planet and reduce the surface to ashes.” Hux knew his voice was rough and there was much too shake in it for his liking, but the ever-dutiful lieutenant saluted, thanked him for his confidence and promised the mission to be successful. With that, the General stalked off as best he could towards the med-bay.


	42. The Gift of Hope [Hux/OC, Unfinished]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Hux receives a very unusual gift. Piece is unfinished, posting anyways.  
> Unrevised

‘More diplomacy, more headaches,’ Hux thought. He was relieved that the visit to this planet had been shorter than most and that it was coming to an end. Just one more dinner with the chancellor of the forsaken rock and he would be on a shuttle back to the Finalizer.

The large estate was filled with planet elite: politicians, respected doctors and tops of their fields, and of course the rich that greased all of the cogs in the regime machine. The night was a parade of endless introductions, but Hux barely paid attention to them all; his ears were trained on the gentle melody coming from somewhere in the room. When at last dinner was to be served, he was given the chance to see what had been distracting him as the room cleared out.

In the corner was a figure, swathed in a fabric so purple it was almost black. On an ornate bench it sat in front of an open piano, the sound now much louder as its competition drifted into the dining room. Hux took this opportunity to approach. The figure, a woman, either paid him no attention or didn’t hear him, for when he stood beside her she neither stopped nor looked towards him. Her face was hidden by a featureless porcelain mask, her fingers were long and pale, her body was stiff and she stared off at the corner of the room instead of the keys at her fingertips.

“You play most beautifully.”

Her head bobbed in response but she said nothing. The song ended and she started another without changing the music in front of her; the book was closed. Hux was about to say something again when the owner of the home came to pull him away. “Come, General Hux, dinner is served and I’m afraid she won’t be speaking.”

The meal was well-made but the conversations he was drawn into were bland and predictable, as the conversations of all such insulated people were. In the short moments when the buzzing of highly-educated voices wasn’t assaulting his ears he strained to listen as the player continued on her piano. She was obviously playing as background noise for the party, but she didn’t change her demeanor even as the party shifted. Hux began to suspect her of being some expensive experimental droid designed to imitate a human.

Dinner finished and the party reduced to drinks of brandy and the passing-out of cigars. Hux planned on leaving after one drink and one of his new cigarettes he’d gone out of his way to buy while off-ship. Most of the guests seemed to have this same idea in mind as they cleared out, some not even finishing their glasses. When he’d returned from the refresher he found the house empty save for the servants, the members of the estate, and a few high officials. He distinctly noticed that the player had left her post, instead coming to stand stiffly beside the chancellor.

“Ah, General, before you go, our planet would like to present to you a gift for all you do for the First Order, and thereby for us,” the chancellor said as Hux approached.

“That is very generous of you.” He was a good liar.

“You’re most kind. We think this gift most fitting for a man in your position. As you likely are aware we silenced our planetary resistance movement a year ago, almost exactly. Every word of slander and every rebel dead. Except one.” The chancellor reached over and removed the white featureless mask from the pianist standing as still as stone statue.

“This was the daughter of our rebels’ leader. Perfectly broken into submission. We found the ideal way to make sure that a person’s spirit is so utterly destroyed was to make her watch as we hanged every rebel fighter we found, including her family. The sound of their necks snapping as they dropped was only bested by the beautiful sound of her music. The crowning moment, of course, was when we beheaded her dear love.” Hux knew he was a cold and cruel man but the way the chancellor spoke and the other officials laughed at his words made his stomach churn.

The look on the woman’s face was as barren and emotionless as the mask she’d worn. She didn’t even flinch when the man recounted the execution of her family and friends. Her eyes remained slightly downcast towards his feet, even as the chancellor clamped her chin between his fingers. “She’s still quite the beauty, wouldn’t you say, General? I imagine she’s quite agreeable even to things I haven’t asked of her. She’d make a good servant on your ship, entertainment for you and your men, or you could execute her for morale. That, I believe, is the true value of this humble gift.”

Hux stared at the woman and fought back surprise when she finally shifted her eyes up to look into his. He expected the fire of a woman driven to Resistance, but instead they were simply filled with sadness and hopelessness. Perhaps she was hoping he’d execute her, maybe that was better than living in the home of a man who’d killed everyone she cared about in such barbaric ways.

“Chancellor, as a testament to your effective eradication of your planet’s rebels, I accept your gift. Now you must excuse me, I must return to my ship.” They exchanged pleasantries and, without a word, the silent pianist rebel followed him out into the private landing pad where his shuttle was waiting. The officers and troopers present gave the woman sidelong glances but none questioned it as she stood still, hands folded in front of her. Hux caught up on his briefings and reports as they made their way to the Finalizer.

The General made it to the door of his private quarters before he remembered that his ‘gift’ had been silently following him. His reports had left him in a fouler mood than he’d hoped, so he turned on his heel to glare down at walking husk. “I don’t have time for whatever it is I’m supposed to do with you, so find somewhere else to sulk. It’s a big ship.”

She’d been standing there when the door to his chambers automatically closed behind him. The woman became the furthest thing from his mind as, after a quick shower and wardrobe change, he began to put out fires around the destroyer. When he’d open the door again she wasn’t there to remind him of her presence on the ship. The news had probably made its way around, because he went the entire day without being informed about where she’d gone.

Hux had been distracted that first day, which he’d later blame for erasing the memory of a particular guest. In fact, he’d forgotten for several weeks, until the chancellor had gotten through a small message: 'How have you enjoyed you gift?’

“Lieutenant, have I received anything from the last planet I’ve been away to?”

Lieutenant Mitaka gave him an uncertain look. “You mean the woman who embarked with you, sir?”

Hux dropped his datapad onto his desk, his blood running cold. “Yes. Do you know where she is?”

“Last anyone saw, she was in the detention center.”

“Why was she put there?” Mitaka’s face continued to deepen its confusion.

“She put herself there, sir. And she won’t speak to anyone. The detention team reports they barely see her move. She’s refused meals and hasn’t said anything. No one even knows her name.” Hux plucked his greatcoat from his chair and wrapped it on his shoulders. In minutes he was in the detention center’s headquarters, demanding to know which room the woman was in.

The cell was of course tiny, the smallest available on the star destroyer, the door solid plasteel. When the trooper opened the door, she was sitting on the floor, legs tucked beneath her with hands splayed on her thighs. The movement didn’t serve to raise her gaze from the unoccupied spot on the floor. “She’s been like this for almost three weeks, sir.”

Hux could see she was gaunt and pale from not eating; her eyes were dark where she barely slept. He lowered himself to one knee in front of her and when she did not look at him he cupped her hollow face in his gloved hand to tilt it up. Her eyes were still sad and empty. The chancellor had found a way to truly break someone’s spirit and, if the rebels had any good qualities, it was their determination and fire-like drive. There was no evidence of those things here, except maybe the determination to starve to death.

“When I told you to find somewhere else to be, I did not think you’d lock yourself up.” She didn’t respond. He dismissed the trooper hovering over his shoulder.

“You may do with me as you wish and I will do as you command.” Her voice was dark and devoid of character. The inhuman lack of any personality made Hux’s skin crawl.

“What if I command you to come back to my quarters and eat your meals instead of wasting away in this dark hole?” He didn’t know why he didn’t just find quarters for her; he could always change his mind later. For now, he decided, he would be more aware of her disturbing things in his meticulously kept rooms.

Without a word she got to her feet, shaky where she’d remained sitting. Hux grabbed her as her body made to collapse, wrapped her in his greatcoat, and lifted her into his arms. Normally he was not able to carry a full-grown person, but she was small and thin. He dared the officers and troopers in his way to say anything as he stomped through the detention center and on to his quarters. Determining the sofa to be too short for her to comfortably lie down, he begrudgingly took her into his bedroom and laid her atop the crisply made bed. At some point during transit she’d fallen asleep; he took note of when her head bobbed against his shoulder.

Not knowing whether to wake her or let her sleep, Hux quietly exited the room to rummage around in his kitchenette. He wasn’t one to prepare meals for himself, so most of what was kept around were the high-energy calorie rations given out to troopers for away missions, and quickly-eaten-and-digested nutrient packs. Figuring the slurries to be easier on the stomach of someone who had apparently eaten nothing, or so little no one noticed, for three weeks, he gathered up one of each flavor and brought them back into his room.

He’d only been in the other room for 30 minutes, but he couldn’t helped himself from putting a hand on her forehead and inevitably rousing her. She looked confused through the haze of sleep, eyes wandering his face to make some connection to her memory. “I would like you to at least try eating something.”

With only a nod she acknowledged him, using what little strength she had to sit herself up and take one of the pouches at random. He watched as she opened and slurped it, staring off without purpose. When she was done she delicately placed the desiccated corpse of her meal into the wastebasket by the bed and looked up at him for further instruction. “Why don’t you get some rest, I have reports to work on.”

Underneath his greatcoat she lied down flat, not even taking off the shoes and clothing she’d been wearing for three weeks. Hux made a reminder to look into how she managed to not smell like death after all that time. Maybe one needed a soul in order to sweat, or possibly his sense of smell had deteriorated to nothing. “Maybe a shower is in order.”

She sat back up and looked at him, waiting for him to confirm what it was he wanted. He helped her to her feet and walked her to the refresher, patting some clean towels before he left her to it. While he listened to the water begin to run he stripped off all of the bedclothes she’d touched and replaced them; he even hung up his great coat to be cleaned. Somewhere in a drawer he found seldom-used training clothes and he was laying them out on the bed when his gift walked through the door with nothing on.

There was nothing explicit about the action, other than being unclothed, but Hux had the feeling that she assumed he wanted to see her this way. It maybe would have aroused him in small measure had she been in good health, but instead he found himself tracing the lines of her ribs like a lion’s claw marks in the side of a gazelle. Before he could be distracted any more by her nakedness he shoved the spare clothing into her arms and hurried off into the den. There he stayed, tearing through reports and updates until his body screamed for sleep. He found her still sleeping but pushed stiffly against the edge of the bed, allowing him the most room. From his place beside her he pulled at her shoulder until she laid on her back. His dreams were haunted by pale wraiths, though they did not make to harm him.

When he awoke for his shift she was asleep, so still that he placed a hand in front of her nose to make sure she was breathing. Satisfied she wasn’t dead he got ready and, freshly washed and clothed, he made his way to the command deck. There a few of the officers were huddled around one of the consoles, occasionally shouting in disgust so loudly it could be heard down the hall. Hux approached and Lieutenant Mitaka saluted him, looking a bit pale. “What is this about, gentlemen?”

“The security team was scrubbing for information on your guest, sir. They found a lot of stuff,” Mitaka said, pushing the shake from his voice. Hux leaned to peer over the shoulder of the officer controlling the feed, causing the man to look up with a cocky grin and say, “Yes, sir, the ghost of the detention center was quite the rebel.”

“Is that so?” The officer rolled the footage back to the beginning. It was a security cam for a street he’d probably traveled down while visiting the planet, full of people, when a military checkpoint exploded in a shower of sparks. Soldiers came to investigate, only to be shot at from a nearby tenement building and he could barely make out a woman’s form on the roof as it made its escape. The feed cut to a rebellion demonstration; when the soldiers began to close in on the group of angry citizens, the rebel militants burst from the crowd and at the head was the woman. “Is that a vibrosword?”

“Her arrest record says they confiscated an old vibrosword, a blaster rifle, three blasters, ten frag grenades, two plasmas, a cryo, and five knives all hidden on her person. They even stripped her down to find garrote wire stuck to both her arms.” On the screen was the bloodiest rebellion fight Hux had seen occur against planetary defense. In the chaos he could see how she’d made use of her armory; cutting through armored men like butter, a careful burst of blaster fire here and there, but her crowning achievement was knocking off the helmet of a guard captain, wrapping her wire around his neck and using the force of her boot on his back to strangle and cut his neck until dead. What surprised him was that he expected a reflection of hate in her eyes when the recorder caught her face as she was set upon and capture, but her face was serene. “It gets better, sir.”

The next thing to come up was a recording of a planet-wide broadcast, the screen split between the image of a man walking along a platform to stand behind a noose and the woman’s face staring at him, trying to hold back her emotion. The chancellor spoke up, “do you have anything to say, father of the rebellion?”

The man looked up at the stage, “I’ll always love you, star child.” With that the floor fell out from beneath him and even Hux could hear the snap of the man’s neck before being overwhelmed by the sound of cheers and the woman’s broken wail. He was about to tell them to get back to work when the footage continued on to a recording of the inside of a detention center. Guards’ bodies were strewn about the hallway, blood oozing from wounds and body parts looking put on wrong. Bloody handprints and spray covered the wall along with the scorch marks of blaster shots. The cameraman turned to a particular cell where five guards had their blasters pushed against the rebel’s blood-drenched skull. When she looked up, he finally saw the fiery hate he’d expected in her eyes.

The feed became a pattern; rebels would be hanged, every one seeing less tears and emotions from her, and then there’d be more carnage as she managed to escape her bonds. The last of the footage was another planetary broadcast; but instead of a noose, this man was walked to a block on the stage. The guards pulling him to his execution kicked the inside of his knees to make him kneel and pushed his body onto the block until his head hung over the side. A large man, vibrosword in hand, stood next to him waiting for his cue. The chancellor spoke, “and so, with the death of your beloved husband, you my dear Hope, are the last of the rebellion.”

“You can see the exact moment she stops feeling a thing,” one of the officers said giddily. With a click of his fingers he signaled the executioner, who raised the sword above his head and brought it down only for the man’s head to not come off. Hope tried to look away but a guard fixed her gaze with his hands. Hux could see the life leave her body as the executioner hacked away at her husband’s neck, blood spraying everywhere, until the head fell into a basket. His hope that the deed was done was dashed when the executioner held the head aloft by its hair and presented it to the chancellor. “Say goodbye, dear.”

“Goodbye.” It was the hollow voice he recognized and the stony lifeless gaze she gave her deceased husband’s head made him wish he hadn’t eaten breakfast. There was no more footage, thank the stars, and the file rolled over to information on her multiple arrests. Hux shifted his data pad in his hands and went to his ready room. “Back to work everyone.”

Safely alone he locked the door and found his wastebasket so he could vomit into it. With shaky hands he made a glass of water and chugged it, washing the disgusting taste from his mouth. The General couldn’t find the strength to work on anything for half an hour until his door chimed. He unlocked it with the control panel on his desk. “Come in.”

Lieutenant Mitaka nervously entered with a small salute. “Sir, the men have expressed concern about the… guest.”

“She’s been on this ship for three weeks with no incident and she’s had ample opportunity to kill me, so I do not think she is of any concern.” Hux began to work on his data pad to distract himself.

“Sir, if I can be honest, you don’t look so well.” He was still feeling lightheaded and nauseous, but he was determined to work through it. “There isn’t anything pressing on the schedule for your shift, I’m sure we could manage without you unless there is an emergency.”

Hux looked up at the lieutenant and found him genuinely concerned. He sighed, turned off his datapad, and pulled on his greatcoat. “Anything unusual is brought to my attention.”

“Yes, sir.” He made sure to go by the officer’s mess hall on his way back to pick up a proper meal for the poor woman. When the door to his quarters opened he found her standing in front of the transparasteel viewport, staring out to the stars and looking vulnerable in his spare clothes. With uncharacteristic reverence he placed the meal for her on his desk nearby and came to stand beside her. He didn’t often take time to stargaze, he saw the stars like this all the time.

“Have you ever been on a starship?” He wasn’t sure why he asked, curiosity over such trivial facts wasn’t something he was known for. He received a quiet ‘no’ in response. “You were quite the fighter.”

He expected to be attacked but his guest remained relatively motionless, save for her regular blinking and breathing. “I was protecting the planet.”

Reports had reflected the notion that her planet’s environment was in decay due to the sudden increase in manufacturing of supplies for the First Order, so the answer came as no surprise to him. “I am sorry. For your father and your husband.”

“Me too.” Hux wasn’t much of a conversationalist, such conversations felt like chores and wastes of time and breath. That didn’t stop him, too many questions bouncing around in his mind.


	43. Biting the Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes great skill to capture a General and a Knight and it takes a lot of abuse for a dog to bite back. [Self-indulgent bull that I uploaded on Tumblr so why not here.]  
> Unrevised

It was one inconvenience to be on a mission with Kylo fucking Ren, it was entirely other thing for them to be both captured. By one person. By a woman. Hux had to admit she was quite good; if getting someone like Ren wasn’t a sign of the man’s incompetence it was surely one of great skill in their captor. He’d woken up in a cramped room, hands secured behind his back and something rubbing his neck, but he was surprised that he wasn’t roughed up in any way other than the soreness of being knocked out. Officers who came back from Resistance capture often detailed being treated poorly by over-zealous rebels.

The door to the room swished into the wall and the woman, sans the gear she’d sported on her raid of his base, walked in inspecting a data pad. Hux glared up at her in the dim light, but it didn’t faze the little look of happiness on her face as she tucked the data pad under one arm to look at him. She jutted a thumb at her neck. “Sorry about the thing, boss-man’s orders. I don’t even like the cuffs; let a man have the chance to fight back, I always thought. Can’t argue with brass.”

“This interrogation will get nothing from me, Resistance dog.” He spat, she laughed slightly. “Well, I’m not Resistance, but I admire the ferocity. And I’m inclined to believe you; you First Order guys are pretty tight-lipped compared to the Resistance. But that’s not my problem, I’m just a loyal dog playing fetch for its master.”

With that she walked out and he heard the swish of another door nearby. The wall in front of him shuddered with an impact and something thudded to the ground. There were a few moments of silence before the sound of the door again and Hux expected his to open to the figure of Kylo Ren but the sound of feet went by in an unhurried pace.

A few hours passed before the hum of the engines stopped and the ship jerked as it made its landing. When she came for him he foolishly resisted only to be shocked by the collar around his neck. Her face flickered with remorse as she brought him to his feet and she seemed to think better than to say something. In similar fashion he watched as she gathered Ren, the hot-headed man trying much more than Hux had, but each time he struggled the shock became more intense until he crumpled to the floor. She gave the man a pitying look as she tried to get him off the ground and, while he resisted her grasp, he obediently got to his feet. Ahead of her they walked through the small space of her ship and out into a large hangar. A technician said something to their captor and she responded jovially.

As they entered the facility she got ahead of them and instead of the carefree smile her face became a mask of emotionless stone. They passed countless guards that saluted her but she didn’t bother acknowledging their existence. Eventually they came to a briefing room occupied by men standing around a holo-map. All but one looked up as they entered; the one had, from what Hux could glean, the highest rank of those present. He stared in disinterest at his data pad as the woman talked. “Sir, I’ve returned from that base on-”

“I can see that, but tell me Fanchon, why have you bothered bringing these men all the way here instead of infiltrating the next base as ordered?” So, Hux thought, she was not ordered to capture them, which meant she was either meant to kill them and move on or they didn’t know they were at that base at the time.

“But sir, they’re the General of the First Order and the knight-”

“I know who they are. First Order men are useless; they don’t talk and they’re replaceable.” The woman stood in disbelief for a few moments, the other men exchanging worried glances between her and the commander. Hux looked down to see one of her fists curl and clench into a fist and the strain of her jaw. The look of pride degraded into anger. The man looked up and Hux recognized the face of a commander who was tired of his subordinate. “What, you want a pat on the back?”

He’d barely finished his words before the impact of her fist pushed him into the holo-map. The group was still with shock as she turned around, muttering a ‘come on’ as she passed. They made the journey back to the hangar. She stopped them in the middle of the floor and went into her ship without them. When she came out there was a lit thin cigar between her teeth and she cared a sniper rifle in one hand, belts of explosives hanging from her shoulder, and a machine gun that she dropped with an ominous boom on the floor. Her face was the image of stony unbridled rage.

Unceremoniously she lifted the rifle, not even bothering to sight it, and fired up into the window of the control room. The glass rained down as she made her shots around the hangar. Hux saw the technicians gather in a group, faces of shock shifting to ones of excitement and they began to whistle and cheer with the destruction. The rifle spent she chucked it nonchalantly away and began to remove the explosives from her belts. They sailed with deadly accuracy into the lines of speeders, her anger knowing no mercy. Taking up her machine gun with ungodly strength she started on her finale- the large shuttle in the middle of the hangar. The armor piercing rounds tore up the hull, the insides smoking and catching fire. With the viewports broken through she gathered up what was left of her grenades and chucked them into the cockpit. In a marvelous explosion the ship began to billow flames and smoke. When she dropped her spent weaponry and turned around, the way they’d come was full of armed men, the commander at their front. The technicians had silenced at their arrival and fled into the facility.

As the master of the destruction passed them to stand before the firing squad, her empty hands held up in mock surrender, Hux and Kylo turned in their spots to watch with morbid curiosity. “Is this my repayment for saving your life and giving you a purpose?” the man spoke, voice shaking with rage.

“This is the price for abusing my loyalty,” she said, her voice calm and clear like crystal.

“You leave me no choice. Is there anything else you’d like to destroy?”

“Call me sentimental, but I’d like to apologize to the poor gentlemen that I dragged out to this cursed backwater.” Confident with the blasters trained on her, he scoffed and crossed his arms, a silent cue she took to be permission. She turned on her heel to approach them, sliding herself behind Ren with a whispered “don’t move.”

“Ya know, I thought it’d go better than this,” she said as she reached behind her back. Hux caught the glint of the familiar lightsaber as she pressed it into one of Kylo’s hands and watched the shock collar ping as the man presumably willed himself to use it. She chuckled darkly as she took Hux’s arm in her hand, pulling him back and away from his co-commander. “I love a good encore, Lord Ren.”

In the blink of an eye Kylo’s restraints fell and the lightsaber roared to life. Hux watched as the man deflected the blaster shots away and roared in anger at their would-have-been prison guards. The woman dragged him into the ship where she clicked it to life and set the coordinates. She turned to him, the cruel anger in her face washed away, making her look exhausted. “It’s set for the base that was next, just hit that button and the ship does all the work. Excuse me.”

She disappeared into the ship without another word. After a minute his restraints deactivated and in desperation he began looking around for a weapon. He came upon her armory and cursed at the deactivated and foreign look of everything. When he came into the small kitchen there were various glass bottles pulled out from the cabinets, one having shattered on the floor and leaving a small trail of blood droplets towards his holding cell. Quickly he rushed to it to lock the door, but the display already read as locked. The other cell was open and unoccupied. He went into her quarters only to find her nowhere in sight; there were not many places to hide in the sleek ship. Returning to the cockpit Kylo Ren was just stepping inside so without second thought Hux pressed the button the woman had shown him. The hatches closed automatically and the ship disembarked without incident, the coordinates actually set for one of the First Order bases.

The slaughter of a hundred armed men seemed to have taken the anger out of Ren, judging by the way he fell into the copilot’s seat next to Hux. “Where’s the woman?”

“That whirlwind of destruction is locked in the back. You two would probably get along, maybe she has a thing or two to teach you.” 

The man huffed. “That was personal. I’m impressed you detained her.”

“As much as I would like to take the credit, it’s the way I found her. Not like she can hide with you running around unchained.” It would be some time before they got to the base so Hux occupied his time with looking through the ship.

His impression of her quarters were that the ship was more a home to her than the base they’d left in flames, but there was very little personality in it. The only thing he found to be unique to their former captor was the holo of her with a man he didn’t recognize. Standing in her armory he could see how she became a master of infiltration and destruction. The room was full of various weapons, explosives, and the tools of keeping undetected.

The bottles littering the counter of the kitchen were almost all alcohols. Each one was unique, many labeled in alien scripts, others having no label at all. From the kitchen he heard a rhythmic pounding from down the hall and he went to investigate. It had been coming from the locked cell, but it stopped as he stood in front of it. Through the steel he heard her talk. “I know it means nothing, but I am sorry, ya know? Blind loyalty sounds so good until you realize it’s all been a mistake. You think you have a purpose; that someone needs you, and they don’t even bother to look at you.”

Hux didn’t bother to speak, but he stood with his ear focused. “Everything’s on a data pad in a hidden compartment under the flight console. The passcode is the day the empire blew up Alderaan.” Hux still didn’t budge, instead saying “what’s the code for this door?”

She laughed. “Why would you want to do that?” When he didn’t reply the door swished back unannounced. Inside she was sitting on the ground, putting the wires back into a wall panel. Her voice was slightly slurred but she was confident in her words. “I’ve given you back your freedom, a fireworks display, and all the information on a group of people who, while not the Resistance, were definitely fucking with you. Hell, those guys are pretty dumb, they might not even remember to disconnect me from the network so if they get up to anything you might know before it happens. So I don’t know what you want other than some revenge torture, which you’re entitled to considering the whole kidnapping thing, or to watch me slowly kill myself in here.”  
“Why did you let us go after all the trouble to take us?” She looked down sadly.

“I don’t know. I had actually felt bad for taking you, don’t know why I felt that way either. The commander always maintained that you were monsters, but the deeper I got into First Order intelligence and records the less…” she trailed off, her brows knitting. “The less I could hold you responsible for things. There was more going on than people thought. The commander didn’t care what I said.”

Hux stared. What could she possibly be talking about? Probably a ploy, but why did it feel like there was a hidden truth? He stood in front of her, crouching down to inspect the bottles she’d brought in with her. “You mean to tell me that a killer let me go because she felt sorry for me?”

“I know what it feels like when you finally realize you’re being used and you never knew it. It’s not a great feeling.” He looked up at her sharply. “You’re not exactly the emperor to Ren’s Darth Vader.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“The First Order is a testament to erratic behavior. Every time it seems to relax into a pattern it seizes up and changes direction. On the edge of the galaxy someone makes an uninformed decision and it’s like a saving grace. Somewhere a boy in the throes of teenage angst learns about his powerful grandfather, emulates him by needlessly killing a bunch of kids and heading off to some place no one had heard of to be in the service of a man in charge of a galactic army. Somewhere in time a little boy’s dad treats him like garbage and, instead of doing what makes sense and doing the complete opposite, he goes on to be the General of the army his father served. And in some strange dream, more real than reality, the idea of a planetary annihilator comes to him.” Hux’s jaw slacked in awe at her. “Somewhere a little girl hears voices in her head, kills her family, runs away, and uncovers a conspiracy of power while her love turns on her. She’s saved by a man she blindly respects for saving her life but one day she takes that child-murderer and abused boy to that man and all he can ask is why she’s still there.”

“How do you know these things?”

“Because you are controlled by a master of illusions, I was controlled by a simple man. Your men don’t speak because they’re well trained, they don’t speak because they can’t. They fight and fight but they can’t. That’s why I regret taking you, because now I have looked into your eyes and seen the man trapped behind them.” Hux became hyper-aware of his thoughts, trying to organize them in a way that made sense. Her words were obviously nonsense, he had always been the man he was in this moment. Or hadn’t he? Something fought him to stop questioning himself. It almost won when he felt a hand at the back of his neck, the smell of Arkanian whisky on warm breath. Lips pressed against his and he felt aware of a chill wrapped around his mind, its claws dragging for purchase as it was blown away. His thoughts were left in a warm bubble, the edges feeling secure and able to question without interference.

Hux was brought back to reality by the sound of sobbing and a wetness against his cheek. He was in a tight embrace, their faces pushed together. His first reaction was to pull the other body closer, but his mind was racing about other things. He’d felt suddenly lost, memories he’d never thought of bubbling to the surface. His mother’s sweet face, forgotten and erased. All of the times he’d gazed in wonder out at the stars and thought of being anyone other than himself. The dream that had been Starkiller Base was just some planet he’d wanted to run away to, somewhere far far away from the First Order. 

“The truth isn’t always kind.”


	44. Werewolf Kylo Fucks and Fucks Up [Werewolf!Kylo/Unnamed OFC]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Noncon, Monster Fucking **NSFW** Unrevised

His heavy claws ripped away her clothing haphazardly and the animalistic instinct to mate meant he thrusted his cock into her without regard to readiness. Getting her wet and stretching her out to accommodate him was the furthest thing from his mind. That meant she cried out in pain and only the first inches managed to enter her before bottoming out, a claw on her hip to hold her in place. With each thrust her body tried to make room for him until her abdomen swelled rhythmically like some creature was trying to get out. His cock was so thick at the base that whenever he thrusted the whole length in it was as if someone forced their whole fist inside. A low growl accompanied his orgasm; hot semen filled her womb to capacity where the head of his cock had pushed her open, so much of it emptied itself from his body that it forced its way around the knot keeping them joined. A whimpering mess laid beneath him and he didn’t care, because this was his mate designed by nature to be pumped with his seed and carry his progeny. Eventually he could remove himself from her and the white substance spilled out like she’d suddenly sprung a leak, painting the floor with a stain. 

With no strength she laid on the floor beneath him, so he curled up around her, protecting his mate against any danger. A heavy claw rested on her, keeping her in place as her shallow breath heaved her chest. In the morning, wolf gave way to man and, naked and blissful, Kylo slowly opened his eyes to the light streaming in through the window, only to find a young woman in his arms. Bruised and cut she looked almost dead to the world and he panicked to make sure she was still breathing. Inspecting her silent form he saw her covered in dried blood and semen, a feeling of deep shame overcame him. Then she opened her eyes and seeing him she shrieked with a hoarse voice. 

“No!” He cried out but it only served to startle her more. He winced seeing how she couldn’t even run away from him she was in so much pain and her muscles were almost useless. He tentatively reached out a big hand and she flinched away. “I won’t hurt you.”

“You already did. What are you?” The words were spat with venom and he deserved them. Big brown eyes filled with shame and looked at the ground between them. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’s just that… you’re my mate.” 

“Your what? No. No no no no. I’m a person, you’re a… a… monster.” He looked up at her, hurt and pleading, but she didn’t budge on her position.

“I am a monster… but you… you smelled so good, I knew we are supposed to be together. That doesn’t mean I’m less sorry about hurting you. I… don’t have complete control over myself sometimes.” She scoffed and he winced again like a dog expecting a hit from a rolled up newspaper.

“And what am I supposed to do when you ‘lose control’ of yourself? Just get ripped in half over and over because you need it? Because you think we’re ‘mates?’ I don’t think so.” He has to fight back tears. She’s right, she’d be at his mercy, if he has any at all when he’s in the middle of a rut. “If there’s some way you can never come to me again, I won’t call the police. You’re lucky I’m so… forgiving. And that you look so pathetic.” 

Pathetic. He is pathetic. A kicked dog that was in love. How could he be in love when he doesn’t even know this girl’s name? She’s only here because the animal part of him thought she smelled like the ideal receptacle for his seed, the perfect creature to breed with. Which didn’t even make sense, she wasn’t like him, they couldn’t breed. He couldn’t keep her, she’d only come to resent him or at best her love for him would be from psychological damage. He didn’t want either of that, better to be alone. So he takes her to the entrance to his lair, head bowed low and wild black hair obscuring his face. When it finally sank in that she was gone he started to cry, great big sobs and tears echoing through his den. He was stupid enough to love her and now he had to deal with a broken heart. All because he was a monster. 


	45. Mer Hux has the Golden Tail he Deserves [Mer!Hux/Unnamed OFC]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Explicit  
> Warnings: Explicit Depictions of Sex  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC)  
> Pairing: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character  
> Tags: AU: Monsters, Mer Hux  
> Words:   
> Moved to Short Works: 2018-11-04, Revised: 2019-04-  
> Summary: Aneirin is saved after her ship is destroyed in a storm. Her new fear of the sea is cured by the return of her saviour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might be revised later for expansion on the story.

She’d discredited the old sailor’s tales in favor of the weather report guaranteeing smooth seas and good winds and it was a mistake. A sudden storm came out of the east to rock her boat, obscuring the shore from sight and throwing her against the deck. A wave crashed over the vessel, tipping it sideways and, without anything to hold onto, she slid off the wet wood and over the side, a rope knotting around her ankle as she went. Whatever it was tied to or was caught on was too heavy for her to swim against and she was unable to pull herself free. She could’ve sworn something glinted in the dark ocean around her, strewn with the sinking wreckage of her fishing ship, but that was impossible. Her fate was to lie at the bottom of the sea for eternity. 

She woke up on warm sand, the sun beating down on her and the sound of the ocean filling her ears. Stunned she looked around, finding herself alone but seemingly unharmed. When she spied the water she scrambled away from it, sending the fine grains of white sand flying under her hands and feet. Feeling an unfamiliar weight around her neck she touched it to find a chain of gold and on it hung a gem embedded into a beautiful scallop shell. On it was a symbol she didn’t recognize. When had she’d gotten this? Her chest hurt and she coughed, her legs were shaky when she stood up, but otherwise she felt fine. As higher reasoning came back to her, she recognized the beach as not too far from the wharf she’d departed from and she started walking in that direction. 

The people at the wharf were stunned to see her, claiming to have seen parts of her ship wash ashore that morning. She couldn’t explain how she’d survived but she had and that was all that mattered. No one could tell her anything about the necklace she was wearing. Fishing had been a decent source of her food and some of her income but she now had an irrational fear of the sea. However, sometimes she would look out to it from the safety of the dock and feel the urge to fall in, like succumbing to a great void. She was sitting under the wharf near the great wooden pylons holding it when she heard an especially loud splash. Looking up she saw a large tail, Golden and sparkling, slapping the water as if a large fish was struggling. To have a tail that large it would have to be a massive fish, longer than she was tall. Curiosity got the better of her, overriding her fear of the waves so that she could wade into the water to see what kind of strange creature it was and what it was doing. When she got closer the tail slipped away into the water. 

She thought that would be the end of that and she’d turn around but she saw something shimmer in the water by her boots. Reaching down into the cool shallows she felt for what it was, possibly a coin that had slipped between the boards of the wharf above, but what she found was a golden scale that was the size of her palm. While she was inspecting it something grabbed her ankle and she jerked it back, expecting it to be an octopus or just some washed-ashore seaweed, but instead it was an arm. An arm solidly attached to a man that, instead of swimming with a pair of legs, flicked a golden tail behind him to regain balance from being dragged further ashore. Green eyes stared up at her from under a fringe of brilliant red hair stark against pale skin. The eyes became level with her as she fell backwards into the water. 

“You finally came back.” His voice was light and angelic, like at any moment the sky would open up and a ray of light would boom with the voice of some God. She stares in disbelief. Long pale fingers lovingly caressed her hand under the water. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“I was afraid.” Not exactly the answer she’d expected herself to say but it was answer enough for this creature. His eyes were hurt, his plush lips pouting slightly. 

“I would never let the sea hurt you.” He pulled himself further onto the beach so that he might touch the necklace hanging from her neck. “Can I see you again? Please?”

He looked desperate and sad, so lonely. It hurt her heart. She touched his hand, so wet but warm. A sigh escaped his lips. “Where?”

He told her of a secret hide-away near where she woke up, accessible only by swimming underneath the waves and into the cliff’s Base. When she expressed terror at the thought of having to swim in the wild sea, he placed a finger to her lips to silence her before kissing her. It tingled and made her breathless, yet felt so comforting. He promised her she would be alright and slipped back into the water. 

The next day she walked to the beach where she’d woken up, dressed in only her underthings to swim in. Taking a deep breath she plunged into the water and searched for the hidden entrance, only to realize that she should’ve run out of air a long time ago. Near the surface she let out the breath she’d been holding and made to breathe in only to find that pure air refilled her lungs instead of water. Her lungs felt the same way they’d felt when she’d kissed the man under the wharf. She dived deeper until she found a hole in the cliff rock and she swam through it. The tunnel, lit by some bioluminescent strands of seaweed or algae, emptied out into a spherical pool. There were all sorts of trinkets displayed as if it were some morbid museum of shipwrecks, but what caught her eye was the fluttering golden tail that ended at pale hips breaking the water’s surface. She swam forward and touched the scales, earning a whack with a large translucent fin. 

Breaking the surface she saw that the man- fish? Fish person? Sea spirit? Was poking a fire sitting under a hole in the rock ceiling, a few fish on wooden sticks hanging over it to cook. He looked more than pleased to see her. He’d apparently made some effort to make a comfortable spot for his guest to sit, having fashioned some cushions and pillows out of sail and other sunken materials. Some pillows had obviously been on some pleasure crafts as evidenced by their delicate beadwork and golden fringes. She lifted herself onto the rock shelf to dry off and warm herself by the fire. He looked at her adoringly. 

“My name is Armitage.” His face was broken by a great grin, green eyes flickering in the firelight. He moved to sit on an outcropping under the water that somehow served as a seat she could not see. His hands began touching her, marveling at her skin and especially paying attention to her legs and feet. The touch was somehow both innocent and intimate. 

“You saved me.” It had certainly not been a dream that her boat capsized and broke up in a storm, but the explanation of how she managed to survive, especially when she remembered something dragging her under, had escaped her until now. He beamed with pride.

“I’ve saved you twice now.” She must’ve looked very confused. “Maybe you don’t remember. You were young and got dragged from the beach in a particularly large wave. I was young too, sticking to the shallows, and I pulled you back up to the surface and made sure you stayed there until a human could get you.”

“I seem to recall being afraid of the ocean for a while, but I didn’t remember why.” She touched him and he sighed at the contact. “I’m sorry, but what are you?” 

“A long time ago people called us mers.” 

“I thought those were just stories.” He laughed and it was a pleasant noise. 

“I’m quite real. I understand your disbelief.” His hand traced a line from her ankle to her thigh and from there up to her hip. She shivered but it wasn’t from the cold. His eyes were dark, thinly rimmed with shining grey. “You are so beautiful.”

“I’m really not…” she didn’t do anything as he untied the string holding up her underwear, the damp cloth falling away. His hands seemed to have a curiosity of their own, wandering her exposed skin. She doesn’t know what compels her to spread her knees, allowing his fingers to slip between her legs and part her slit, eyes intent on their inspection. When a fingertip brushes her clit, having caught his attention with its likeness to some strange sea-life, she shuddered and let out a soft noise that visibly excited him, a smile gracing his lips. He rubbed it again in the opposite direction, garnering a similar reaction. They slid further down where they found her opening and one finger experimentally hooked inside. Surprised at how warm and wet it was he burrowed deeper to find how far he could go. When he pulled it out he licked it tentatively before sticking the whole finger in his mouth, a low hum in his throat. 

And so he played with her more, eventually hoisting himself onto the rocky ledge so he could stick his face between her legs, drinking her up like some sweet liquor. She whined and whimpered as he worked and was breathless when he pulled away. Where previously there had been a gentle bulge of scales at the base of his human body there was, for all external appearances except for a slight golden-orange color along the underside, a decidedly normal and erect human cock. She hadn't been expecting it, she was so turned on she would’ve probably fucked almost anything he had that would fit inside her, but she inwardly sighs in relief. He lowered himself back onto his shelf and she followed his beckoning to get into the water to straddle him. The head of his cock found the proper entrance and his arms gently wrapped around her waist guided her down onto it.

Her hands went into his hair, now fluffy and curly where it had the chance to dry out, and got tangled there. Their lips did everything from brush to bruise each other, sometimes gently nipping or parting to let a tongue inside. She rocked herself up and down, feeling him slide pleasantly in and out. His moans sent pleasure straight through her body and his touch felt like fire. He took off her top and his mouth lapped at a breast while the other was caressed. Greens eyes shined up at her like a sailor admiring the stars as she came undone, losing her mind to passion and lust, ragged breaths echoing in the grotto’s chamber. What brought her to her climax was his fingers tracing her spine and her clenching around him found him groaning his own peak without shame. She collapsed against him, the both of them falling under the water’s surface with jellied limbs unable to keep them afloat. A lithe white arm held her close as they sank to the bottom only to lie in a bed of sails and seaweed, surprisingly cushy and pleasantly warm. His lips on hers made it easier to accept that she didn’t need to breathe, he gave her all the air she needed. 


	46. Big Bad Wolf [Werewolf!Hux/Doctor, Modern]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW, Unrevised

**Monsters are definitely real and Hux was one of them.** At the turn of the war Dr. Brendol Hux had a son with one of his assistants and, determined to make use of the bastard, he made that son into a monster. A thing with superior strength, a heightened sense of smell, though prone to fits of anger and had a nasty habit of becoming a beast that could not be reasoned with for the week of the full moon. The war had ended before they managed to weaponize the boy and Brendol died with throat ripped out when he attempted to put him down ‘like the rabid cur’ he was. They couldn’t very well let him loose upon the public so the organization kept him in an attempt to either wait his life out or to find some way to reverse the mad scientist’s work. 

Hux got lonely but he also couldn’t trust anyone, not after how his father treated him. Thus he refused to have anyone come into the reinforced titanium box he called a home for most of his life. That was until a new doctor showed up behind the observation glass. Her voice was perfectly soothing and he became enamored by her dark blue eyes. She smiled at him and when he once held his hand to the glass, she’d touched the other side; her hand was so small compared to his that he actually laughed, something he very much did not do often. So she was the only one he trusted to come into his room, to sit with him and talk about nothing and anything. He found that she wasn’t very good at chess but she liked to cook, she even brought something she made for him one day. When he had to have tests taken he wanted her to be there and she always was, saying sweet things as she took his blood or prodded him with some other needle.

When the dreaded moon phase came he even calmed a little at the sight of her behind the reinforced glass; the first time she’d seemed so scared that it broke through to the real person inside the monster. He’d whined in supplication and pressed his clawed hand to the glass, a gesture she reciprocated. Slowly she was able to come into the room while he was not himself and each time she entered he pressed his big nose to her stomach to take a deep sniff of her scent. Her presence calmed him like nothing had before and as he laid on the floor she brushed him like some big dog, talking to him about her day or some story from when she was a girl. Unable to use his words he’d licked her hand as thanks for being there with him and she’d kissed his furry head. 

It all changed when she came in and smelled wrong. She didn’t smell like her. In an attempt to find out exactly why she was off, he pulled her into an embrace and buried his face in her neck. A question died on her lips at the sound of the deep inhale. Another man’s scent, but not the scents he recognized from the lab. No, it was a stranger, someone from the outside, someone unrelated to her and it burned him. His hands were on her hips, keeping her from running away as he looked down into her frightened eyes sharply. “Who is he?”

“W-what?” Her voice was so scared but he was deaf to it. She whimpered as he tightened his grip. “Armitage, sweetheart, you’re hurting me. Please let me go.”

“Why are you around strange men?” He may have been in his normal human body but he wasn’t in his right mind. The normal Hux wouldn’t bare his teeth to his favorite person in anything but a smile or laugh. Every particle of that other man’s scent in his nose fueled his anger and ultimately his jealousy. 

“He’s not strange, he’s my friend. We’re just friends.” His grip tightened more and she did more than whimper pathetically.

“Then why is his smell all over you?” The nails of his fingers threatened to break fabric where they were trying to dig into the soft flesh of her hips. His eyes narrowed. “Did you fuck him?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Armitage, no!” Her back hit the wall with a firm thud. “I didn’t, I swear, please. You’re scaring me.”

“Liar!” He didn’t know if she flinched because of his shout or the nails that finally did draw blood. She gasped in pain and tears spilled over her cheeks. “You’re just another whore, like my mother and the rest of them.”

“I’m not lying, nothing happened, I wouldn’t do that.” Her hands were weakly trying to remove his from her body despite knowing he overpowered her by leaps and bounds, failing horribly. “I only like you like that, I lo-“

Hux remembered the disgusting sound of bone breaking and while the silence that passed between it and the next sound was brief, it felt like a lifetime. Then his world came crashing down as his ears were filled with the her screaming. He let go of her and watched in horror as she crumpled to the ground, tears streaming down her face and her mouth open in undying cries. His legs turned to jelly and fell out from under him, his own green eyes flooded with hot tears as he was unable to look away at the woman he loved writhing in pain. He knew what he did but he couldn’t believe he’d done it. The only thing that stopped her wails of pain was the assistant lead doctor rushing in to administer a sedative. Hux, without being told or threatened, backed away into the corner furthest from her and the door where he curled up into a ball as he watched her be taken away. 

First the world around him lost its color. Then the edges of things lost their sharpness. He didn’t recognize himself in reflections. He would just hug his knees to his chest and accept the numbness in his body. There wasn’t rightly any way they could punish him so he had to punish himself by refusing to eat or engage in any small pleasure he had. Days had passed before he thought he deserved to even ask how she was, if she would be okay. He felt sick as they told him about how he’d broken her pelvis in his grip, how much pain she was in, how they’d set it up to mend, how long it would take before it healed, how long she’d have to do physical therapy only in just the hope that she’d be able to walk normally again. Every now and then he’d ask how she was, the look on his face like a puppy that knew it had been bad. He missed her. 

All because she smelled like someone else. 

He was a monster, there was no way she was beholden to him. She deserved a normal life, not a life spent brushing out his fur and teeth every month. Still he wanted to know what the owner of that smell had meant to her, but he didn’t deserve to know. Just a friend. She had been his friend. Now he’d never see her again. 

He’d accepted that fate, even accepted that they might try to end his life again. He deserved it, for hurting the one person who was dear to him. 

So when she darkened his doorway again he thought that maybe he hadn’t noticed the end and he’d skipped right to the afterlife. He didn’t deserve a heaven so she must have been there to torture him. But he realized that was ridiculous and thus she was there to do the deed. When he noticed her awkward step he sprung to his feet and rushed towards her until her look of sudden fear had him stop in his tracks. “Let me help you.” 

She accepted his help in stabilizing her on her way to the table where they would share meals or play a game or just sit to talk. She smelled like so many people but he knew better now. The world regained a little bit of its color and sharpness as he sat across from her. “You look awful. You haven’t been eating enough.”

“That’s what you say? After all of that?” A part of him felt warm, that her first words to him were of concern for his health. But the pressure of guilt was still all around him. “I’m so sorry. I’m a monster.” 

“I know you, Armitage, and you’re not a monster. You didn’t mean to hurt me like that.” She reached out and took one of his hands in hers. “I was so worried about you.”

“I missed you so much. I felt awful. Sick about it.” She squeezed his hand and smiled. 

“I missed you too.” 

* * *

While they certainly were trying to cure him of this curse his father placed on him, Dr. Reader thought it was prudent to start teaching Hux how to see life through the eyes of a typical human being. It started with her curling up with him to watch TV and movies with him, having to explain things he didn’t fully understand. She brought in something to play music for him and he at least knew how to read so there was a constant flow of books in and out of the room. Ever since the incident he was almost scared to touch her again but she made it very clear she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. So when they found a position comfortable for them both he would inhale her scent in her hair, on her clothes, or the rare indulgence of pressing his nose to the skin of her neck. 

Then they started allowing him to walk around the facility with her and though he wasn’t allowed to go outside yet, they would sit and stare out of the windows, his eyes taking in everything from the distant mountains to the trees swaying in the breeze and especially the animals that would wander out into the open. Hux desperately wanted to go outside, but where his teacher in the ways of humanity believed nothing bad would happen, her superiors didn’t have that kind of trust in him. He’d killed Dr. Hux, his own father, though no one actually blamed him. So he had to settle for things she’d bring in to let him hold, investigating the outside world secondhand. It made sense, even to him, that he shouldn’t be allowed in the world when he changed, who knew what he’d do unhindered, but his fits of animalistic rage were quelled in her presence, to the point that he’d wrapped a big furry arm around her to hold her like a stuffed animal while he slept. She’d accepted her fate as a beast’s security blanket and just began sleeping in his room when he ‘wasn’t himself.’ 

When her hip started to bother her too much on their walks, he lifted her up without question and carried her to the nearest comfortable spot to sit. His eyes would flood with guilt and she’d spend her resting moments stroking his hair as he nuzzled her neck to comfort himself. Her colleagues didn’t understand how easily she had returned to working with him, she didn’t rightly understand it herself, but she forgave him and did everything in her power to dissipate the dark cloud hanging over his head. Sometimes it was letting Hux rest his head in her lap while he slept or being held, entangled in long limbs as he intently watched or listened to whatever she brought him that day. He wanted to go outside, be like a normal human with her. His favorite books were romances because he imagined having a loving life with her outside of those walls; walking down the street holding hands, kissing, dancing, and eventually making love. He instinctively knew what sex was, he knew the meanings behind the horrible words his father called his mother, but the concept of being intimate with someone he felt so close to was something that seemed the most human to him. 

Gradually he could integrate into normal life; they let him outside of the building once they knew he wouldn’t try to run away. ‘If you run away, you can’t see me anymore, ya got it? Just be patient.’ She’d kissed his cheek when he agreed to the arrangement. Being outside overwhelmed him and he stood in the warm sunlight in awe of the sights and smells. Hux inspected anything and everything, eventually they sat near a small garden that sported a variety of flowers. He picked one he liked in particular and he stuck it behind her hair like he’d seen someone do in a movie she’d brought him. When she smiled at him he felt he had no choice but to press his lips tentatively against hers. Heart racing he pulled Dr. Reader towards him, not allowing her to escape as he pecked her lips more. She giggled and stroked his hair, telling him how adorably affectionate he was. 

The week of the full moon came and something different had happened. Hux, after the change had overcome him like it always did no matter how much he fought it, was restless until Aneirin came in for the week. If she was going to be gone for a week straight to keep him calm she had to make arrangements and he knew that but it didn’t help any. He would pace around in circles, fluffy reddish-brown tail between his legs, and emit a low-pitched whine that Aneirin had characterized as the sound ‘awoo’ which indicated a great need. In this case he needed her. 

When she finally came into the room he pounced, carefully. He’d become more aware of his size and strength while playing and interacting with her, so that he knew just the right amount of pressure and force to use. He licked her face from neck to hairline, eliciting a feigned ‘ew, Hux’ of disgust. Then he took the back of her shirt softly in between his front teeth, lifted her with a shriek, and took her over to the large soft area that served as his sleeping spot during full moon weeks. His hands, or rather claws, weren’t nimble enough to perform the task he needed to complete, damn the human need to cover themselves. Hux possessed the markedly considerate notion that he didn’t want to simply tear her clothing away, it looked nice on her, so instead he’s tried picking at the laces of her shoes with just the very tips of sharp claws. 

“What is it, Armie? Don’t tell me you want to chew on my shoes?” Dr. Reader laughed as she took her shoe off and held it out for him. He hooked it on one claw and set it down to one side, did the same with the second offered shoe. She furrowed her brows in confusion but accepted it. Then he tried lifting up her shirt. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

Hux emitted his soft ‘awoo’ and his ears swiveled into a begging position. She sighed and lifted the cloth over her shirt and he placed it with her shoes. Realization dawned on her. “You want me to take off my clothes?”

It was more that he wanted to undress her, like he’d seen, but he was incapable. So he made the sound again and she complied, curious about what this was about. When she was done he knocked her softly back down and and swiped his long tongue from one of her protruding hip bones, over one breast and up her neck to her cheek. The doctor shuddered and giggled at the sensation. He nuzzled his head against her body, demanding affection. After some petting and licking he moved away and before the question could leave her lips he swiped his tongue between her legs. “Hey!” 

She wriggled but he continued until the wetness on his tongue was less his spit and more the liquid she made in response to his touch. He flipped her over and after some probing his hard cock that had pushed its way free of its protective sleeve slipped into her. A low growl told her he was pleased with having mounted her and he began pumping back and forth. He could feel how her body strained against his side, how he couldn’t fully seat himself in her, but time saw his whole length able to fit, her lower torso having to shift and stretch to make room. At first her sounds were a mix of pained and surprised but he would’ve stopped if she’d asked him to, he wasn’t that much of a monster. With her he’d learned how to maintain at least some of his human thought processes. His pants became heavy as he reached his peak, the knot at the base swelling until he couldn’t remove himself if he wanted to, and he howled as he filled her with hot cum. There was too much for her small body to hold and it spilled out around the place where they were joined to stain the soft rug beneath him. Still stuck together he nuzzled his face against her back, lifted her with one arm and shifted his body so she could lay down flat, to alleviate the pressure of having been bent the whole time, and laid his warm weight above her. Hux emanated soft sounds to show his affection. 

When he could he removed himself from her body and he watched with prideful fascination as the rest of his seed spilled out when she stood up on shaking legs like a newborn fawn. He brought her a towel from a pile for her to clean herself with and found a clean spot on the rug to curl up. Hux’s iridescent green eyes followed her as she got redressed, breathless and still reeling from what happened. His bushy tail thumped against the ground rhythmically and he begged for her attention. Dr. Reader stumbled over to him and curled up with her head leaning on his. He could hear her heart thumping against her chest. 

She didn’t want to discuss it while he couldn’t properly articulate his answers so when she woke up a few days later and he was back in his normal body she shook him awake. Hux smiled at her dreamily and pawed at her with his big hands with their long pale fingers. She grinned back at him. “That answers that question.” 

“What question, sweetheart?” The doctor snorted in delight and he cocked his head to one side. 

“Whether or not that was just animalistic lust or if it was based in feelings.” She inspected his calm face. “Honey.” 

He grabbed her gently and pulled her back down to spoon her, nuzzling her neck and holding her close. 

* * *

In a few weeks he was allowed to venture out of the research facility and accompany her in the small town she lived in beyond the thick forest and mountains. Hux was given a photo ID, special issue of the government, and a laminated card with the temporary codes that would get him back into the compound if somehow he was separated from her along with some phone numbers of people in charge of the project. Like an excited dog he jiggled his legs up and down rapidly with barely contained energy in the passenger seat of her sedan. Dr. Reader had put on the radio but he tuned it out in favor of watching things pass by them and marveling at other cars or buildings. They pulled up to a row of storefronts and he practically flung himself from the car. “Armitage, I know you’re excited, but you’ll attract attention.” 

“If anyone asks I’m just really excited to visit my girlfriend after I’ve been overseas for a long time. I’ll joke that I’m a spy.” He flashed his special ID and she smiled at him in loving amusement. They walked into one building and Hux’s nose was overwhelmed by a myriad of smells. It was a bakery and she’d stopped there on her way home to pick up some bread and a small cake to celebrate. He didn’t like sweets very much but she’d found some correct combination of icing and cake ingredients, just the right ratio of the two, that he would enjoy. If it was the week of the full moon his tail would be thumping against the counter and he’d be drooling onto the floor. 

Her apartment was small but he immediately loved it. It smelled like her, was full of her things, was his mate’s den. He knew that particular set of words put her off, it was too animal-like, but it was how he saw things. Dr. Reader was his mate, this was her den where she slept most of the time, ate her meals, felt safe. So he felt safe too. He knew what things were, she didn’t really have to explain things to him, but he touched and sniffed everything anyways. When he was done inspecting every corner she was sitting on the couch having already picked a movie and started work on the bread. Hux curled up to her and kissed her cheek. “I’m not going to want to go back.”

“I know. We’ll find something out, I hope.” 

“I want to marry you.” His words caught her off guard and for a moment he was worried she was going to reject him. But her face softened and tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

“Really?” He brought their lips together in a passionate kiss. 

“Yes. I don’t want to ever leave your side.” 


	47. Dragon Hux Is A Soft Boy [Dragon!Hux/Unnamed OFC]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Explicit  
> Warnings: Explicit Depictions of Sex  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC)  
> Pairing: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character  
> Tags: AU: Monsters, Dragon Hux  
> Words:   
> Moved to Short Works: 2018-11-04, Revised: 2019-04-  
> Summary: Aneirin is captured on an afternoon stroll and finds herself the subject of a young dragon's attentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might be revised to expand on the story.

The issue with having hair like gold meant that some things mistook you for shiny bits of metal. Birds, children, dragons. Hiking in the mountains, the last one became a problem. From behind came the sound of great beating wings and eventually the heavy impact of 300lbs of winged reptilian muscle slamming into her back, forcing her to the ground. A thin tongue flicked at her head, testing its prize, only to find it fleshy and altogether useless. Though not entirely; its taste was intoxicating and spoke to him on some primal level. So like the livestock it periodically made away with, the red-scaled dragon took hold of the crying human, lifted them both into the air, and flew off to its den. The place was remarkably human in design despite the fact that a dragon lived there. But being dropped on a bed of coins wasn’t exactly the best environment for dissecting the habits of ancient magic beasts. 

Having one's clothes torn off by sharp fangs didn’t help, or a heavy claw holding down your lower back, or the feeling of something wet and ribbony slip inside you, inspecting the tight walls of your cunt. She gasped and cried in pain as it tried moving through her cervix and, seemingly satisfied, the tongue pulled out only for her to be be mounted like some dog in heat. Suddenly she was full of something cold and wet stretching her out to accommodate its size, which was somehow both painful and erotic at the same time. It pounded away furiously like it was angry at her and the pain had her crying while the pleasure of it had her rutting back against it in time with the thrusts. Face pressed into the pile of cold hard coins, she couldn’t see what was happening behind her, but she felt the presence above her change like the air being sucked out of the room. Claws turned into soft but still cold hands, the harsh hiss of breath turned to deep grunts, and the thing that threatened to split her in half became a manageable but still long, thick, and hard cock that felt somehow more right. 

When her assailant withdrew she found herself flipped over onto her back, face-to-face with a man; handsome, lean and pale, hair red like fire. He made to reenter her when she spoke up, voice quivering and scared. “Please, don’t, you’re hurting me.” 

He froze in place, eyes washing over her face wet with tears and then wandering down between her legs where he could see the bright red blood from where he’d stretched her open too hard, the substance staining his slowly-fading cock. The scope of what he’d done registered as he heard her quiet ‘please’ another time. Gently he touched her face to wipe away her tears and when she didn’t flinch away he pressed a tender kiss to her cheek. “I’m so sorry. I’m a monster.” 

She’d heard of dragons before, great greedy majestic beasts that ruled the skies and hoarded their gold in mountain caves, but no one had ever told her that they could take human form. She realized she should be fighting, but fighting seemed useless. Like she weighed nothing at all the pale naked man lifted her up in his arms, cradling her in them as he walked her further into the mansion apparently carved directly out of the mountain stone. She heard the approaching sound of water and felt the air begin to heat up until eventually they were in an elaborate and richly designed bath fed by a hot spring. Without skipping a beat he waded into the warm pool, placing her on a bench carved into the side where the water could soak her up to the neck. He climbed back out to retrieve a basket of finely crafted soaps and soft towels which he deposited within her reach. 

“I’ll find you some clothes. They will most likely be too big, but-“

“Please stay.” He looked at her in shock. The pathetic look on her face had his chest tightening and the feel of her wet hand touching his delicate ankle melted him to her will. He lowered himself into the water and sat beside her. “That really hurt-“

“I’m so sorry, I would do anything to make it up to you, you can take whatever you want, I-“ she pressed a finger against his plush red lips. A silent question was in his green eyes.

“It hurt, but it also… was extremely hot.”

“I don’t understand.” She smiled shyly and his heart forgot how to beat.

“Maybe with some… warning and some… warming up…”

“Wait, you… want to do that again?” He searched her face trying to figure out if this was some joke, a ploy. She traced the line of his collarbone and he shivered despite the warmth of the hot spring. 

“When I’m healed.” He gasped at the touch of her lips on his damp shoulder, her fingers playing with his brilliant red hair. No one had ever paid him such tender attention. 

“I’ll do anything for that to come true.” In bliss he cleaned her body and was in turn washed. He let her wear some of his rich clothing and take a satchel of coins and treasures. For the first time he let someone ride his back and he left her in a field not far from her village, receiving kisses and petting on his scaly head and a promise to meet him at a certain spot when she wanted to see him again. His heart sank with every passing day but on the seventh day he practically fell out of the sky in excitement to see her sitting on the cliff where he’d taken her away the first time. 


	48. Lock and Key [Hux/Aneirin, Modern]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Teen and Up  
> Warnings: Sexual Language/References  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC)  
> Pairing: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character  
> Tags: AU: Modern, Fluff  
> Words: 2027  
> Published: 2018-11-05, Revised: 2019-04-  
> Summary: Armitage and Aneirin are having a difficult time while Armitage is on an extended business trip, so the redhead decides to spring his surprise early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.

“What do you mean you cancelled your flight?”

“I have to stay a few more days, things got delayed, it wasn’t in the plan.” Armitage paced around the empty office they let him use to take private calls. It wasn’t as large as his, it irritated him that he couldn’t properly stride around on his long legs.

“I feel like you don’t want to come back.”

Her tone dripped disappointment, had a slight edge that said ‘I have been thinking this and now I have to say it aloud.’ Armitage paced harder because he promised he’d stop smoking so much and he was determined to keep that promise. Of course, he could always slip up and blame the smell of smoke on his clothes, which he would have no time to have dry cleaned, on someone else.

“It isn’t in my control.” The pause that preceded her exhausted sigh was deafening. He promised he would stop drinking so much too, but it was a bit harder for her to know when he slipped up there. The fact that he was on a business trip meant he had to push the definition of ‘too much.’

“Okay.” _No, it’s not, don’t lie to me,_ Armitage thought. _You’re always sparing my feelings. You are always worried about saying too much._

“As soon as this is finished I am on the first flight back.” _Even if I am in the air for 24 hours and have to catch seven connections._

“Okay.” He knew this was her forcing down the urge to burst, either into tears or a rare bout of anger. Maybe she never realized he could hear her thoughts so well in her voice, could read the patterns.

Someone knocked on the office door, signalling that he was needed. “I have to go, An.”

“Okay.”

“I will call you when I get back to my hotel, I promise.” _I will always keep my promises to you._

“Okay.”

His heart hurt, which was always difficult when he had something important to deal with. _Not more important, just more immediate._ “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too.” They said goodbye and she beat him to terminating the call. He flicked his phone to _Do Not Disturb_ and slipped it into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket.

* * *

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what time it was there. I woke you?”

“Yeah.”

Armitage was sitting on his hotel bed with his belt, jacket, shoes, and tie removed. He’d rolled up his shirt sleeves even though she wasn’t there to see it and leer at his exposed forearms. He noticed that one of his socks must have caught something because a hole was just beginning to form, his pale skin stark against the soft black fabric. He considered the opened but otherwise untouched bottle of Scotch from the room’s bar in his left hand.

“I need you to do something for me.” He heard her sheets rustle and she made a cute little noise when she sat up.

“Is it important, honey?”

“Very.”

“Alright.” He heard the lamp on her bedside click on.

“I need you to go into my office and open the safe under my desk.”

“I don’t know the code.”

“It’s our anniversary.” His thumb felt the smooth mouth of the bottle as he listened to her walk down the hallway to his office. He remembered the day he found a loveseat that suited the rest of his furniture so that she could sit in there while he worked; she fell asleep there many times.

He could hear her move the overstuffed leather chair away from the mahogany desk and she grunted with the effort of getting onto her hands and knees to crawl under it to access the safe. She said the numbers aloud as she pressed the appropriate buttons and the safe whirred open. “So what am I doing?”

“I need you to take things out.” He knew she only grumbled because he’d woken her up at about 3 in the morning. Armitage took about half of his drink into his mouth and let it burn like a punishment before swallowing.

“Alright, but I-” the microphone was muffled as she propped the phone between her shoulder and ear, “this is the note with my number, from the Christmas party.”

He didn’t respond, there were a lot of things in the safe that she would be surprised to see. Little things, little reminders of the life they lived, proof that it was all real when he felt like everything was sand in his fingers. “I know I’m not very good about expressing myself. For all the meetings I lead and presentations I give, I clam up when I look at you and I can’t say what I want to say.”

Armitage thought the drink would help loosen his tongue as it did at the party where they met, but while his tongue was loose his throat was tight. He could still hear her occasionally take something from the safe for inspection. “I’ve never been good at it, I’ve never had someone who I wished could just know every part of my life. I spent my whole life and every day hiding my vulnerabilities and the true me, putting on a thick armour so I couldn’t be hurt. And it didn’t work, because hearing you doubt that I want to spend every moment with you for the rest of my life… hurts more than anything my father ever did, than any harsh word or sharp touch, than losing everything I’ve spent my life building.”

_It would surely kill me more than anything._

There was a shocked hitch in her breath.

He knew what she found, buried under everything, hidden despite the fact that she didn’t know the combination to his safe. Armitage had never worried about what she might find under his desk but it had been some strange balm on his soul that she never tried to invade the privacy of it.

‘There could be a hoard of diamonds in there,’ he’d said after she insisted that she wasn’t curious about it. She’d come in when he was getting his passport and he’d decided honesty was the best course.

‘Is there? Are you a diamond thief?’

‘Would it bother you if I was?’

She crossed her arm over her stomach and the other hand cupped her chin, like a movie character in exaggerated thought. ‘Only that you might get caught. Then you’d go to prison for a long time and I’d have to find somewhere else to live.’

‘You’d miss the lap of luxury?’

‘It would be hard to find an apartment with heated bathroom floors without it costing a couple of organs.’ She rapped her cheek. ‘Though they don’t need to be mine.’

Ever since 3 months after their third anniversary, there had been a small, plain black jewellery box tucked into the safe. Inside was a simple band of platinum with a single blue sapphire that was smaller than the band was wide. On the inner surface was an engraving of their initials and ‘My Better Half’ in a beautiful scrolling script. He knew that even if they lived in something that commanded the word ‘estate’ more than ‘home’ she was not actually a flashy person and her subdued personality was one of the first things he liked about her. It was a surprise to hear a girl talk about her horse in the context of it being for work and not jumping or dressage.

“Armitage.”

“I was waiting for our anniversary. I thought it would be special that way because I didn’t want to make some grand gesture to someone who has kept the same car for 20 years.” He remembered trying to gift her one, a nice one, actually it was a few years newer than his. She’d refused and instead, he took that one and let his CFO’s son buy his old one. He’d been impressed that the boy, who by all means should have been exactly like the prep-school-turned-Ivy League brats, the ones who refused their parents’ gifts of sports cars for being the wrong color or that they wanted a Lamborghini instead of a Ferrari, whose daddy-dearests paid off and intimidated sorority girls who ‘made it up’ that they didn’t want to sleep with anyone after 8 drinks, who egged the queer boys into quitting or suicide only to be found sucking each other’s dicks in their dorms and lacrosse locker rooms, had insisted on buying a used car with his own money that he earned from an internship that Armitage was fairly certain was not just handed to him, seeing as the CFO in charge of that program hated the kid’s father for sleeping with both of his ex-wives.

“Armitage.” When Aneirin couldn’t think but needed to say something she usually ended up repeating his name. He liked the way she said it.

“I am devoting so much time to this project because when it’s done I can have more time, uninterrupted, to spend with you.” He took a moment to burn his mouth with the rest of the Scotch but she didn’t take the opportunity to say something, she was probably still stuck on ‘Armitage.’ “I was going to ask you to marry me. I was going to invite your parents to stay for a few days the next week, and your friend Bash. I was going to ask Phasma to come and we’d have them all come with us to the courthouse to get married. I’d have a reservation at the steakhouse overlooking the bay. I’d get them all hotels so that when we came home it would just be us. Then we’d fly off to Ireland where we’d start our month-long vacation. I’d show you where I grew up. We’d go to the distilleries. Whatever fancy we had.”

There was an indistinct noise, he was fairly certain it was her trying to say his name but it was mangled by a tight throat, running nose, and burning eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m an idiot. I’m sorry that… you don’t feel that you can say everything that bothers you. I am grateful that you feel you can be vulnerable with me, that you trust me to make things better, even if it’s just holding you and ordering dinner so neither of us has to make it. You taught me I can do that too. You make me feel like a person. I-”

“You better finish this deal.” Armitage paused, his mind losing its track and spinning out of control after being derailed from a practised speech. “Can I start wearing it now or do you want me to wait until you get back?”

“I want you to wear it now.”

There was a chuckle, broken by amused sniffles. “It doesn’t quite fit.”

“It’s been a few years. The jeweller’s card is in the box in my desk drawer, top left.” His heart was pounding so loud he was sure she could hear it.

“How big did you think my fingers were? This barely doesn’t fit my thumb.”

Armitage burst with laughter.

“Are you okay?”

“That’s mine. Try again, sweetheart.” He tried to quell his giggling as she rummaged some more.

“Much better, but I will still take it in, don’t want to lose it. Guess I’ve lost weight.”

“You certainly eat better now.”

“My hero, rescuing this poor starving artist.”

“Not that starving.”

“Armitage Barclay Hux.” If he’d met his mother he imagined that was the way she’d say his name if he said the wrong thing at the wrong time.

“Aneirin Lucasta Pritchard.” If he’d said that to his mother he expected he would have received a punishment worse than anything his father ever cooked up.

“You’re going to get what’s coming to you.”

“I would be cross if otherwise.” Armitage tossed the empty bottle into a wastebasket. “Get some sleep. I love you.”

“Good ni- Whatever it is over there. I love you too.”

He didn’t feel as bad this time when she hung up first.

He forgot to ask what exactly was coming to him.


	49. Pariah [Young Armitage/Aneirin, Modern]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: General  
> Warnings: None  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC)  
> Pairing: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character  
> Tags: AU: Modern, Young Armitage, Young Aneirin  
> Words: 3034  
> Published: 2018-11-07, Revised: 2019-04-22  
> Summary: Armitage doesn't have many true friends and finds that the nicest person in class doesn't either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.

Armitage Hux didn’t have friends, which was generally considered ‘strange’ for a kid in the fifth grade. His cold and serious demeanour made him a little difficult to get along with and those who were more in-the-know were cautious about a kid with such a powerful public figure as his father.

However, this didn’t bother Aneirin Pritchard. The girl was the kindest, poorest, and tallest in their class. He was taught to ignore the less wealthy as useless, he was a little intimidated by her height, and her kindness meant she was always the one volunteering to do group work with him or sitting next to him at lunch. She also happened to be tied with him for best grades, which proved to be quite annoying to the freckled redhead.

It didn’t come as much of a surprise when she handed him an invitation to a birthday party.

People tended to invite him to their parties and his father always said it was because they were hoping to befriend his money. Thus from an early age, he learned that relationships were only as good as the person was useful and that was all people wanted. Armitage never went because he refused to be used.

So upon first glance at the envelope, he assumed this was the same as any other invitation, doubly so considering her family was a bunch of nobodies and her clothes were obviously old and heavily worn. But he took it anyway because the way she smiled at him and said ‘I would love it if you came, even for a little bit’ made it hard to immediately refuse. He knew that she’d invited everyone, seeing her walk around handing out the white envelopes with a smile and an ‘it would be nice if you came!’

Despite his better judgement, Armitage fished the envelope out of his school bag after settling into the back of the shiny black town car that picked him up and broke the sticker, an unassuming red daisy. He didn’t immediately recognize the address, it had to be on the outskirts of the suburban town, which made sense given that she was always the first to school from being dropped off by her parents and she had made a comment about how she was glad that she got to transfer because her old school was always dripping. Everything was handwritten in the careful half-cursive he’d learned to recognize from one-and-a-half school years of being partners. At the bottom of the information list was the note ‘No presents needed! Presence is appreciated!’ That was exactly the kind of joke he expected from her.

Armitage knew he should have thrown the invitation away, but instead, it stayed as a bookmark for the book he was reading in the car.

The week passed without much to notice until Friday. Aneirin didn’t come back after lunch, one of her parents having apparently picked her up early as a birthday treat. Armitage wasn’t entirely certain which specific day was her birthday, but he knew the party was tomorrow. He didn’t care much about birthdays, never paid much attention to them.

As kids were packing up for the end of the week he overheard around him the plans for the weekend. There were, of course, the snide remarks of classmates he wasn’t surprised disliked the birthday girl, but he was surprised that hearing the rude comments made him angry. In the car, he opened his book only to stare at the invitation. Compared to all of the invitations he’d ever gotten it was plain and simple, which had made it stand out.

His father left Saturday, just after noon, and Armitage sighed in relief. After finishing his weekend’s homework and his regimented piano practice, he sat down in his room to finally do something for himself. The little piece of white paper fell into his lap as he opened his book.

His stepmother wasn’t his biggest fan but in comparison to his father she could be considered ‘nice.’ If his father had been there, he would not have bothered; he hesitated when he thought maybe his stepmother would tell his father what he was about to ask her. Armitage almost went back to his room but his stepmother caught him standing in the doorway to the sitting room where she was reading. “What are you loitering for, child?”

“I-”

“What do you have there?” His stepmother closed her book and twitched her finger to command his presence further into the room. Nervously he stood in front of her on the chaise, toying with the edge of the invitation.

“I wanted to ask your permission to go to a party for my… classmate, ma’am.” They weren’t friends and he was worried the word ‘friend’ might harken a cruel comment.

His stepmother sighed.

“I have done all of my work and I did my practising. Father will not be back until Monday. I just-”

His stepmother rubbed at her eye tiredly. “You may go. You deserve some… childhood. Have Edrison take you.”

Edrison Peavey was one of the many house servants in Brendol Hux’ employ and one of his main duties had been Armitage’s chauffeur and sometimes the one checking in on his progress during practices or diligent bookwork. The boy was sure the man secretly detested his position, but considering the less savoury roles in the household he could have been tasked with, driving to and from the school and practices had to be a relief. When the ginger made his need apparent to the man who was sipping a cup of tea in the kitchen, there was the twitch of annoyance from being asked to do something on what was essentially a paid day off. “Yes, Armitage. Gather your gift and let’s be off then.”

“I don’t have a gift, the invitation said not to bring one.” He handed over the piece of paper which contained the address.

Edrison rolled his eyes dramatically, something he usually did when no one could see. “That’s just people trying to be polite, of course you have to bring a gift.”

Golden-red eyebrows knitted in thought. “I wouldn’t know what to give her.”

“I always gave my little sisters dolls.”

Armitage shook his head. “She doesn’t seem the type.”

“Mother always gave them clothes.”

“But how would I know what her size is?”

“Fair point.” Edrison tucked the invitation in his pocket and stood up, signalling a move towards leaving, whether the discussion ended there or not. “I wouldn’t suppose you know anything she likes to do?”

“She likes to read.” His face lit up, Edrison seemed confused by it. “I know exactly what to get her!”

* * *

Armitage had insisted that he could walk into the used bookstore by himself and his face barely rose above the front counter as he waited for the gentleman to finish up with a customer. Much to his surprise, he recognized him as the father of his classmate Ben, which was strange considering Ben’s mother was a notable politician; why would his father work at a bookstore?

“What can I help you with, kid?” The man leaned on the counter and had the same crooked smile as Ben.

“It is my, uhm, friend’s birthday party and I see her read many books with your stickers on them, so I was hoping you had, uhm, gift certificates?” Armitage felt silly because he wasn’t the type of person to be doing this type of thing, but this man didn’t know that. He was just a normal kid trying to get his friend a present.

Ben’s father smiled more. “You know, I’ve never had someone ask for one of those, never had any made. But you know what, if she’s in here so much, maybe I’ve seen her before. What’s she look like?” Armitage described her and it had prompted the man to pluck a bookmark from a display to write on the back. “You’ve picked the perfect gift, kid. How much did you want to give her?”

The boy received bills every so often from his father, probably in some hope of a lesson or just so he didn’t have to be asked when his son wanted something. He put half of what he had in his bifold wallet on the counter and watched as the man counted it up.

Ben’s father hesitated. “That’s a $100, seems like a lot.”

“I’m a-” he didn’t know why but for once Armitage didn’t want to use his father’s name or the state of his financial situation to sway opinion. “I want to do something nice for her.”

The man’s grin broadened and he winked with a click of his tongue. “Say no more.”

So he handed over the bookmark, on the back of which was scribbled ‘Happy birthday! $100 gets a lot of books, kid!’ It was possibly the most unofficial looking transaction ever made, but Armitage accepted it. “Thank you, Mister Solo.”

“Have fun, kid!” There was something knowing about the way Ben’s father looked at him but he wasn’t exactly sure what he supposedly knew.

It was quite a drive out into the more rural parts of the county, Armitage was pretty sure they were actually in the forested foothills by the time the Mercedes turned onto the gravel driveway. After all of the driving to get to the bookstore and then to her house the sun was getting low in the sky behind the mountains, casting a glow on everything. Nestled between trees just starting to bud their leaves was a quaint home that could be described as a well-lived cabin. Under an awning was a pickup truck that had to be as old as his father and behind it was a larger and much newer truck stacked with ladders and tools, a decal on the side that said ‘Corsaira Construction’ on it. There were no other cars and when Armitage got out of the back seat he didn’t hear the sound of people that he’d expected. He did, however, hear a dog howl.

He got to the door and raised his hand to knock when he heard gravel crunch around the corner of the house. Apparently, the sound of the black car had been disruptive enough to get the attention of the biggest and strongest man Armitage had ever seen. His hair was redder than his, more like a raging fire framing his head, and while he could probably lift a car straight off the ground his approach was soft. The man looked at the town car and then back to the boy standing stock-still on the porch like a deer in headlights, hand still raised. “We’re around back unless you’ll be needing to go inside.”

Armitage quickly went down the stairs and walked up to the man he assumed was Mister Pritchard. Up close it became no surprise that Aneirin was so tall at her age and the boy was almost jealous. He followed meekly behind as they came to the backyard where a group of chairs sat around a lit firepit, all empty save for one. He recognized the back of her head and given the still pervasive chill of early March she was curled up in a blanket. “Someone came to see you, sweetheart.”

He heard her sniffle and from where he stood she appeared to have needed a tissue as she rubbed her eyes with a flannel sleeve. When she turned her head to see what her father was talking about she looked as if she’d seen a ghost. “Armitage?”

Without further prompting the boy covered the walk to the firepit. “Happy birthday, Aneirin.” He swivelled his head around. It didn’t look as if anyone had been there except the two residents and the hound snoozing by her feet, not unless the two of them had cleaned up recently. He didn’t think it was that late that the party would be over. “Where is everyone?”

“They-” She sniffled and looked away, ashamed.

“I know you said no presents,” Armitage started, wanting to spare her the pain of admitting that no one had come, “but it didn’t seem right to come without something.”

As she inspected the bookmark he was momentarily lost in thought. She was so kind to everyone, why would no one come? Was it really so bad that she lived all the way out here? He became aware that she was crying in full force and he didn’t know what to do. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Do you want me to-”

He didn’t have time to finish as he was wrapped into her arms, the chair she was in thrown with how fast she’d stood up, and the slight boy was lifted off the ground in a crushing hug. Armitage couldn’t think of a time when he’d been hugged at all. Gently he was put back down and she briefly held his arms to help him keep his balance. The firelight glinted off of the tear-tracks on her cheeks, but she was smiling. “Thank you so much. You didn’t have to do this.”

It was true, he didn’t have to, never did it for anyone else, people who were more important, more useful. “I wanted to.”

Her father came up to them, patting her head with a big hand that could have probably crushed her skull with a squeeze. Armitage watched her proudly show off the bookmark in all of its lacklustre glory and was amazed at how genuine they were together. Was this what real families were like? “We have the fire going already, but we got some pizza if you want that before marshmallows.”

“That sounds nice, thank you.” Armitage didn’t actually eat pizza much, save for a few times on Friday lunches.

“Wow, look at the manners on this kid!” Normally he would think that was a sarcastic joke, but her father was much too excited.

The inside of the home was warm and rustic, it looked like it could be a model home for hunting lodges that sought authenticity over the too-perfect appearance of cabins where the rich pretended to be poor. They sat around a rectangular kitchen table after Aneirin darted off to her room to secure a place for her present and started to eat. Done with their first slice she bounced in her seat. “Would you want to play a game with us?”

He thought about all of the cliché party games he’d seen in shows and movies and he wondered if they’d be any more fun to participate in than to see from the outside. But it was a party and he was the only one who showed up, he didn’t want to disappoint someone so happy. “What did you have in mind?”

She bounded off into another room and came back with a deck of playing cards. Suddenly she seemed to come to the conclusion that this would be far too boring for someone like him. “Sorry, it’s all we have.”

“I don’t really play a lot of games, I don’t mind.” Suitably appeased the blonde made a space in the middle of the table and after acquiring a second round of pizza all three started to play. When they were done eating they left the cards to go back into the backyard where her father built the fire back up and they started to roast marshmallows. His favourite part was when they’d catch on fire and had to be blown out.

The sun had found the other side of the horizon and Armitage marvelled at how many stars could be seen on such a moonless night so far away from the city. The fire made his cheeks warm and red, but he didn’t mind because he always felt a little too cold. At some point her father went back inside with the lazy hound who had at first made the boy nervous but with some gentle scratches behind the ear he warmed up to him.

“Thank you so much for coming.” It was strange, how easy it had been to fall into a comfortable silence. People talked about uncomfortable silences, always had to fill in the void.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I came. It was… fun.”

“Oh I’m sure it was boring for you, but I appreciate it anyway.”

Armitage shook his head. “I don’t do stuff like this. I don’t have a lot of fun.”

“I usually just have fun with my parents and Lawrence” so that was the dog’s name “so it was nice to have someone else.”

“I can’t believe no one came.”

“People don’t really like me.”

“People are stupid.” He noticed she was staring at him and so he turned his head. “What?”

“It’s nice to hear someone else say it.”

Armitage shrugged. “You’re smart and you’re nice, what more could someone ask for in a friend?”

She was still staring at him, almost as if she was trying to determine if this moment was a dream.

Then he felt something warm and soft press against his cheek. His mouth fell open. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s okay. No one’s ever done that before.” Today was probably the only day he’d ever been shown any affection in his life.

They fell into silence again, staring at the flames, until there was the sound of gravel being moved by tires. He heard his name called by her father. It was time for him to go.

Together they walked around the side of the home but he stopped when they were in the shadow of it, away from any window where someone might see. “What’s wrong, Armi-”

He had to get on his toes and put his hands on her shoulders to keep from falling over but he managed to press his lips against hers. It was soft and short, their lips dry from the fire, but it had been exciting in its own right even given its innocence. Blood rushed in his ears and Armitage was momentarily worried he might faint. “Happy birthday, Ani.”

“Thank you. You made it special.” They shared another hug before his name was called again. “See you Monday?”

“Of course.”


	50. Abandonment [Peter Rabbit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: General  
> Warnings: Depressive Episode  
> Fandom: Peter Rabbit  
> Character(s): Thomas McGregor, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC)  
> Pairing: Thomas McGregory/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Thomas McGregor/Original Female Character(s)  
> Tags: Fluff, Depression/Anxiety  
> Words: 5282  
> Published: 2018-11-20, Revised: 2019-04-23  
> Summary: Thomas McGregor helps out an interesting customer that he hopes to run into again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.  
> Possibly the most un-me thing I've every written...  
> Let's be honest, every role Domhnall plays just feels like a slight variation of the others.  
> And I literally only watched Peter Rabbit because of him.  
> This has almost nothing to actually do with the movie other than the setting and Thomas. Please forgive my attempt to write a thick Scottish accent.  
> Putting it here because I like it but I don't want it in the Peter Rabbit section for a one-off short story.

Thomas McGregor loved helping people, some more than others and some more memorable, for both good and bad reasons. The nature of the interaction, an emotion displayed or evoked, and usually the amount of graciousness given all, among some other minor details, played into whether or not a face and possibly a name was committed to memory. He didn’t always have the best recollections but he did have the usually fortunate penchant for noticing every little detail.

Today it had been a young woman, possibly about his age if she’d aged well. Her dark gold hair was a little out of place, which he had to fight the urge to fix because he learned at a young age that people didn’t like it when one started meticulously combing their hair or straightened their clothes without asking, most likely from the hood of her jacket, given that it was unusually cold out that day and she didn’t appear to be in possession of a hat. She appeared tired, maybe a little stressed and on edge, though very aware of how much space she took up in the aisles to allow people to pass without even needing a classic Londoner exchange. By her clothes, she wasn’t as well off as the people he usually met, but Thomas knew that some people placed more value in other things and thus appearances could be deceiving; after all, she did appear to be in serious consideration of some rather expensive stuffed bears. With one more of the thousands of times he adjusted his appearance to be nothing less than perfect, he approached.

It was a little amusing that without him having spoken up first, the young woman had assumed he wanted to pass her and took a step forward to be almost touching the display, making her presence in the aisle as small as possible. Upon actually being only a few respectable feet away, Thomas noticed that she only came to about his chin and she was undoubtedly either very anxious or had walked a long way to be there; he could tell that the hair, pulled into a high ponytail with the hair underneath cut short, at the back of her neck was stuck to her skin with sweat. He cleared his throat and he wished he’d known some gentler way to bring attention to himself because she practically jumped out of her skin at the sound. “I apologize for startling you, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t in need of some assistance?”

She said something quickly, though even if she’d spoken slowly Thomas wasn’t sure she’d actually spoken English. At the sight of his Cupid’s Bow lips parting in a moment of confusion, the woman tightly closed her eyes- deep blue with just a hint of green or grey, framed by dark eyelashes that he was sure were natural and unaltered- as if to concentrate very hard. He started to consider that he’d come across someone… not quite _right_ , but then she spoke up. “Sorry, ah was speakin’ tae mah da last, hard tae kick th’ dialect.”

“It’s quite alright, I don’t normally have many people come in from that far north.” If her cheeks hadn’t been red before they were positively scarlet now, clearly from embarrassment at the difference in the way they used the same language.

“Aye, ah expect not.” Her eyes moved back to the display of bears, which he painstakingly set up every day to be just in the right positions, and he was silently thankful she’d obviously not picked any of them up yet because that only meant she’d put them back incorrectly and then his display would be positively ruined and- “I feel right silly about this.”

“How so?” Thomas was glad she’d spoken up before his mind could go on too long of a tangent. “May I ask who you are intending to give a gift to?”

“Aye, mah cousin.” He noticed her eyes stare into each bear’s face one by one, excluding some that he was sure were all of the smaller varieties or not a certain group of colours. It seemed his arrangement of the stuffed animals made it easier for her to mentally group them, which was one of his intentions.

“I find you can’t really go wrong with a bear, a timeless addition to a little girl’s collection that-”

“Nae, that’s why I feel silly. Cousin in question is not of the little girl variety, more laek th’... man about to be thirty gettin’ married and visitin’ before he goes.” Thomas didn’t quite have a preplanned solution and his normally agile mind was finding it difficult to parse such a unique situation.

“I’m very curious. Why a stuffed bear?” The longer it took her to answer the closer he came to apologizing for a question that was apparently too personal.

“Well, when we were wee things he had this bear, his da got it for him when he went on some trip or other. Mah cousin loved ‘at bear and-” she cleared her throat, “let’s jus’ say Ah wasn’t the best little lass and I might’ve…”

“Destroyed it?” Thomas was beginning to understand. “So you wish to replace it.”

“Aye, but ‘m beginnin’ tae think it’s a lost cause and maybe ‘m overthinking it. What’s a bear to a grown man, eh?” A second of silence passed as she continued to inspect the army of stuffed _ursus saginati_. “Ah thought ‘t might be…”

“I think it would be quite meaningful. Sometimes people don’t know they really want something when they go so long without it.” Thomas was a little irked that she sniffled and proceeded to wipe her face with her jacket sleeve, but it was better than with a bare hand that she’d inevitably touch something with between that spot and Harrod’s door. He thought it best not to directly address her emotional state and instead focus her on the task at hand. “I noticed you only paid attention to some of them, I take it you remember at least some detail about the bear?”

“Honey-coloured, though ‘t was a little darker by th’ time I got to ‘t. I remember it was big, but e’eryt’ing looks big when yer a kid.” Unfortunately vague details, but Thomas had worked with worse. As the architect of their arrangement, he felt allowed to touch the bears and possibly move them to better hone her memory.

“Some of these bears, while recently made, have older designs than others. Do you remember at least the year it was…”

“Would you believe me if I said I drowned it in a bucket of sheep’s blood?” Apparently, the thought had been plaguing her while Thomas had moved the bears around, but the brunette’s initial reaction was to laugh. She chuckled before giving a very helpful year of receipt for the bear in question, ears turning red with new embarrassment. Thomas was very good at keeping a straight face; besides, she’d seemed disappointed in her past self for the destruction of a loved one’s prized possession, she couldn’t be _that_ terrible.

“Then that would narrow it down to one of these three. Unless it was quite a big bucket it couldn’t have been this one-” Thomas made a motion to disregard the largest of the three bears- “so do either of these feel right?”

He’d been confident that, once the choices had been narrowed down, nostalgia would take hold and guide the young woman to the right bear. Either that or she’d most likely walk away with nothing, heartbroken that her attempt at a thoughtful gift from the deep recesses of her memories and life was unattainable. He couldn’t allow that. 

Thankfully, after a pause, she took one of the bears into both hands and began to stare intently into its eyes. Then she began to choke down some sobs, tears filling her eyes, and Thomas rushed to produce a white linen handkerchief to offer her. She traded him the bear for the square of fabric with a strangled sound that he was pretty sure was either an apology or thanks and she proceeded to blow her nose.

“I will help you get this settled.” Thomas lifted the bear slightly to indicate the chosen stuffed animal. “To avoid some poor cashier worrying that she did something wrong.”

“Thank you, Mister McGregor.”

“Thomas, please.” Normally he enjoyed people addressing him properly, but it seemed more appropriate to let a weeping woman he’d just helped call him by his given name.

“Aneirin.” She fell into step behind him as he approached the counter to box and wrap the bear. “Makes sense, you’d be a good wrapper.”

“I have been called fussy, but I pride myself on my perfect folds and corners.” Aneirin followed him again as he went to one of the registers to ring her out.

“I kinda envy you.” Thomas noticed that the more they talked the thinner her accent became, though it was still obvious to him that she wasn’t from the southern parts of England, especially not London. At the counter, the little rack of postcards caught her eye and he saw her laugh with a smile on her lips before busying herself with retrieving her wallet from her pocket. “It’s always weird seeing my work in the wild.”

He knew that at least once a day he fixed that display but it never really occurred to him where those types of things came from until that moment. “You took those photographs?”

Her smile broadened, amused, but Aneirin shook her head. “Thanks, but no. They’re paintings. I do take pictures but for myself.”

“They are lovely. I enjoy seeing the new ones when they come. Now I have a nice story about how I met their talented artist.” Thomas took her card, his fingers just barely grazing hers, but she hadn’t seemed to notice, eyes on the counter with a blush on her cheeks, from the crying of course. He didn’t miss the opportunity to check the spelling of her name and also her family name, Pritchard. _A good name,_ he thought to himself before finishing up the transaction and primly presenting her with the box and its receipt along with her card. “I do hope it is well received. Anyone would be lucky to have someone as thoughtful as you.”

“That’s very sweet. You were more than helpful, Thomas.”

“My pleasure, Aneirin.”

She took the box sheepishly and the foot closest to the door did move but she stopped. “If I find myself in London, maybe I’ll stop by.”

“I will look forward to it.” Thomas’ smile was more than polite. “Have a lovely day.”

“You too.” And so she went out the door. He told himself that he probably wouldn’t see her again and to not get his hopes up.

When he turned around a pair of shop girls were staring at him. “What is it, ladies?”

“Mister McGregor…” the blonde one was nervous but obviously less nervous than her friend who refused to be the one to speak up first. “You were _flirting._ ”

Thomas’ ears and face hurt from the blood being forced into them. “I was _not_. That would be inappropriate.”

“She was flirting _back_ ,” the brunette finally found her voice and both flinched when he stamped his foot petulantly.

“She was not!”

“She said she’d come in if she came back to London.”

“To see _you_ , Mister McGregor.”

“She was _smiling_ and _everything_.”

“Like a romantic movie-“

Thomas stamped his foot again. “Enough, back to what you’re supposed to be doing.”

The girls skittered back to their posts and tasks and he took the opportunity to go fix the display he’d rearranged. Finished, he found the hole of the purchased bear glaring and abhorrent, so he made his way to the back to find its replacement. Bear in hand, he ended up staring into its black lifeless eyes and his heart hurt.

_She had been flirting._

_And I had been flirting with her._

_Now she’s gone to who knows where._

“I could have gotten her number.” He felt like an idiot, but he couldn’t very well run off to find her now. Besides, she said she didn’t live in London, so when would they ever see each other? He briefly considered if he could possibly find her number through the company that printed the postcards, but logic won and told him that was a method only employable in movies because in real life it was just as likely to be creepy and an invasion of privacy.

So Thomas resigned himself to being alone just a little while longer.

* * *

Thomas wasn’t looking to move out into the country, even if it was beautiful and relaxing. He didn’t want to relax. His intention when he bought the train ticket was to fix up the place he inherited from his deceased unheard-of uncle and sell it.

That was his intention until he learned who lived in the cosy cottage next door.

The fussy brunette was attempting to make the garden significantly less weed-ridden in order to be presentable when a singsong voice that may as well have been a ghost from his past come to haunt him broke Thomas from his brain’s incessant string of thoughts. “Good efternuin! I’m yer neighbour, Ah jist wanted tae say-”

He practically jumped to his feet and twirled around at the same time, dirt all over himself and a massive stalk of some offensive plant dangling from his gloved grip. His jaw dropped and the two of them gaped at one another until he spoke up. “Hello.”

“Hello.” Aneirin Pritchard stood on the other side of his stone fence, holding what appeared to be a pie plate covered in foil, a welcoming gift no doubt. They both stood stock-still, neither daring to approach like two deer caught in headlights. “Ah guess Ah hae one less reason tae visit London.”

“I suppose I have one less reason to sell this house.” Oh Christ Almighty, they were _flirting_. He was actually _flirting_ with someone again.

“Ah baked a pie.” She lifted the plate up as if it wasn’t obvious she was holding it. How had they not walked towards each other yet?

“What kind?”

“Blackburry.”

“I’m allergic.”

“Oh.” Aneirin looked down at the pie, a little sad and disheartened. She lifted her head before speaking again. “Ah can make another one.”

“That would be lovely.” They stared at each other some more. “Would you like to…?”

“Ah’ll make the pie and come back.” Thomas was almost disappointed until he had a thought.

“I can make you dinner. You can come over then.”

“I’m nae allergic tae anything.” Thomas actually snorted when he laughed, it was undignified, but she didn’t seem to mind as she grinned back. “Ah eat at seven. Ah’ll see ya then.”

He watched the blonde walk back towards her quaint little cottage, maybe for a little too long. The garden would have to wait, he needed to get cleaned up and supper was only a few hours away. Besides, he’d have plenty of time now to finish his work. Maybe living in the country wouldn’t be so bad.

* * *

Thomas fixed his tie in the mirror for the fifth time, the clock just 15 minutes shy of seven. He puffed out his chest, stared at his reflection, and let out his breath in an exhausted sigh. Swiftly he hooked his finger behind the knot and pulled the silk away from his throat. Too formal, he was always too formal, too perfect. Upon further investigation he realized that the shirt looked off, its top button done with no tie, so he undid the button to let the collar not sit so stiff. Much more relaxed, casual. Just two neighbours having a dinner.

The doorbell rang and he practically ran to answer it. He was glad he had removed the tie, his dinner guest was dressed in jeans and a comfortably loose button-down with a black cotton shirt underneath. She wasn’t frumpy- well, her clothes were clearly not folded the best way and not ironed before being put on- but it definitely was not the opposite of a tie, he even felt a little overdressed with slacks on. In her hands was a different pie dish, foil obscuring his view. Aneirin grinned. “Don’t worry, not a touch of blackberry, I cleaned everything before making this one.”

“Well look at you, being cautious. I appreciate it.” He stepped aside to let her in and closed the door behind her. Gently he took the plate from her. “Here, let me just- Oh! I wasn’t expecting it to be warm.”

“It came out not that long ago, cleaning up took a bit.” She followed him into the kitchen where he set the pie down on a trivet and opened a cupboard for two plates. While he portioned out their meal from also still-warm pans and pots, Aneirin looked around at the decor. “You could sorta say I was friends with your uncle but I never really came into the house.”

“I didn’t even know I had a great uncle.” Thomas put the plates in their places and moved to the counter to pour the wine he’d been letting air.

“He was alright, most of the time. Hated that I grew better cucumbers.” She turned just as he finished pouring his own glass. “Oh, please, don’t waste a glass on me. Never liked wine much.”

“Oh, well…” he stood with eyes unfocused as he thought on alternatives. From the fridge, he pulled a bottle of beer. “This?”

“Looks great, thank you. Sorry for being picky.” As Thomas removed the cap on her drink and poured it into a glass Aneirin sat at her place, smiling as he also got settled in.

“It’s no trouble, really. As you have pointed out before, I can also be quite particular.” He watched with rapt anticipation as she took her first bite and couldn’t help the smile as she hummed her enjoyment. “You like it?”

“I really do, I might embarrass myself if I invite you over for me to cook.” She took a sip of her beer as he had to quell his excitement with starting on his own plate.

“I’m sure it’d be delightful.” Thomas thought he’d somehow insulted her when she looked away, but he saw her face brighten and the right corner of her mouth curl up. He still couldn’t believe he was flirting and it was apparently working well. The hard part was a conversation that wasn’t too awkward; it felt like they had been doing fine so far in that regard but it could get difficult at any point. “Did your cousin enjoy the gift?”

“Quite the memory you have.” She pushed a bit of food around on her plate. “He did actually appreciate it. ‘I can’t believe you remembered it!’ Big hug and everything.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

“Me too.” Considering the meal was supposed to be eaten warm he didn’t mind that they fell into what was almost a comfortable silence as they ate. Thomas was getting ready to cut the pie when she spoke up again. “Ah suppose you’ll be going back to London soon.”

“No, I… might stay here a bit longer.” He handed Aneirin her plate and a delicate silver fork.

Her dark brows drew in, confused. “Well, you couldn’t stay too long.”

Thomas quickly shoved a forkful of the blueberry pie into his mouth. Unable to meet her gaze, he chose to lean against the counter and stared at his plate. “I… don’t exactly work in London any longer.”

“You seemed to really like it and be good so-”

“ _Yes_ , thank you! And that’s why the promotion should have gone to _me_!” He stamped his foot and the anger brought blood to his face. “But, _of course,_ everything in this _blasted_ country is based on who you’re related to and my entire family is dead, at least the ones I _know_ about, so-”

He took a deep breath and noticed she was standing just a little bit further away. “I am sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. The subject is still…”

Aneirin visibly relaxed. “It’s okay. I’m sorry that happened.”

“Thank you. I made quite a fool of myself.” He chuckled under his breath, more self-deprecating than mirth. “It was… uncharacteristic of me.”

“I had a similar thing. Some years back.” She looked stuck between nervous and humoured.

“I’ve told you mine. I’m curious now.” Thomas poured himself another glass of wine after having finished his piece of pie. He offered her another beer but she politely declined.

“Ah was trying to get into galleries. Ah must’ve gone into… 20 of them all over the country, even one in Ireland.” She finished off her own slice to have a moment of thought. “Ah couldn’t take the rejection either, except Ah wasn’t the one who thought Ah deserved it. But when some… person of unfavourable attitude hailing from Surrey calls you a talentless Schemie, you’re rather obligated to break her nose.”

He choked on his drink. “They really said that to you? To your face?”

“They said it to my fist.” They both broke into laughter. When it died down Aneirin continued. “Apparently her aide didn’t like her much either; when the police asked questions he told them the whole thing and I got out of an assault charge.”

Thomas raised his glass like a toast, prompting her to fake holding her own glass. “To not getting arrested.”

“ _Sláinte._ ” They mimed clinking glasses and laughed again. “This was lovely, I don’t do this very often.”

“I enjoyed it very much, I don’t entertain often either.” His empty glass made a crisp noise as he set it down on the counter.

“I will have to hike down to the market so I can make a proper meal for you.” Thomas averted his eyes, his cheeks red. He told himself it was the wine.

“You don’t have to do that, I promise.”

“But Ah want to.” She started gathering up the dishes to help him wash them.

“Please, I’ll do that.”

“Normally Ah would argue that point, but I’ve seen behind the curtain. Ah wouldn’t want to wash up and then you just do it all over again.” She settled for gathering everything by the sink instead.

Thomas had a small smile on his lips. “Yes, it would be a waste of effort.”

“It’s late, gotta go find my way home in the dark.” They moved into the foyer where they lingered by the door. “Thank you for the meal, Thomas.”

“Thank you for the pie, it is divine.” He thought about an innocent kiss goodbye on the cheek but his hesitation, the time it took him to decide if he could handle the rejection, caused the moment to pass as she reached for the door. “Do you need a torch?”

“Ah ‘ave my phone, thank you though. Goodnight.” Aneirin grinned at him, which he returned, and then she was gone into the dark. He stood by a window, watching her silhouette weave its way back to the little cottage until he saw the light at her door go out once she was inside.

* * *

Thomas tried his damnedest to not get attached because it hurts the most when something you’re attached to finally leaves you. Everything leaves eventually. Parents. Family pets. Friends. Partners. It was easier to just not become attached.

It was, however, difficult to not become attached when he lived a stone’s throw from the kindest person he’d ever met. He spent more time in his great-uncle’s garden just hoping she would see him and come out to talk. Their conversations weren’t particularly deep or provoking, but they were much more pleasant than one could hope for in a stranger. Sometimes Aneirin even started helping him pull weeds or fix the stone wall. The greenhouse received a fresh coat of paint much quicker with two than it would have with just one.

The artist made good on her promise and she went into town just to get something special after inviting him to let her cook. Thomas was a little off-put by the eclectic nature of her home, its lack of decorating rhyme or reason, the way the furniture didn’t quite match. He reminded himself that it was her home and she could do whatever she wished with it; besides, it wasn’t as if it was an uncleanly mess, just a little unorganized and cluttered. Paintings, supplies, and random objects were like the debris of a creative whirlwind, books haphazardly placed in bookshelves that were also the burial ground for canvases and sheets of paper. Framed on the wall was a napkin with a signature on it and Thomas could barely make out the words ‘Best Wishes.’

“Sorry, mate, I know my place is a probably your nightmare. I tried cleaning up and, well, I got the w.c. done at least.” Aneirin ushered him into the kitchen that was a bit more cramped than his and thus when they sat down at a table not used to accommodating two occupants, especially one with long legs, their knees and feet inevitably made contact several times throughout the meal. He had smelled it immediately upon entering the cottage, the savoury scent of butter and beef that would have even the most ardent vegetarian salivating. When they were finished, their faces undeniably flushed from their beers, Thomas insisted on washing up for her and it left her lingering in the kitchen doorway.

Wiping his hands on a towel he turned to see her quickly attempting to seem as if she had definitely not been staring at him. “Thank you for the lovely dinner, Aneirin.”

“Yer quite welcome.” Her feet shifted weight and she nervously averted her eyes. “You wanna… See my studio?”

Thomas smiled. “That would be splendid.”

The rest of her home was hospital-sterile compared to her studio. Had it been light out still, the view would have been beautiful through the glass windows but instead all he could make out was his own house where he’d left the front lights on. Thomas moved through the piles of things, analyzing with his eyes more than his hands all of the paintings and drawings from the size of postcards to proper hangings. Some were obviously experiments or mere studies as they were not her normal subjects or level of skill, but what had really caught his eye was a canvas that not only included his house but there was also a figure crouched in the garden, auburn hair glittering in the sun. Gingerly he picked it up. “Shite, I thought I put that away.”

“No, don’t be embarrassed,” he said hurriedly. “I’ve never been painted before… even if it’s from afar.”

“Yer just out there so much, I can’t help but see you.” Aneirin was fiddling with her hands when he put the painting down front-and-centre and turned to her.

Thomas grinned more broadly. “I’m always hoping you’ll see me and come out to talk to me.”

Her face lit up. “Really?”

He nodded, suddenly feeling shy. The tips of her boots came into his view of the floor and his blood rushed through his ears. The moment stretched a lifetime: her hands lying on his chest for balance, the way she got to her toes to match his height, and her warm soft lips pressing against his. Thomas gingerly put a hand on the small of her back and the other behind her head, bending himself to make it just a bit easier as the kiss became more heated. When he pulled away his whole body was warm for once and his heart was threatening to break ribs. “I have something terribly embarrassing to tell you.”

“Oh?” Her face was on the verge of disappointment.

“It’s just that… I’ve never kissed anyone before. I know that’s very-”

“That’s so sweet.” Aneirin was grinning until she broke into horror. “I stole your first kiss, I’m so-”

He smashed her face against his before she could finish.

* * *

For once Thomas had let himself be vulnerable and it was everything he needed. Long talks tangled up in each other’s arms in bed, walks through the trees, and taking the rowboat out on the lake. Sitting in the studio reading as she painted, her helping him in the garden. The trips into town and the nights looking at the stars from the warmth of a fire. He tried to not use the word ‘love’ too soon, what did he know about it? But a year had passed and even before he handed over her present to be opened Aneirin kissed him and said definitively, “I love you very much.”

So, when he woke up one morning and she didn’t respond to his message about him making her breakfast, it was as if a switch had flipped. Suddenly he was once again that little boy wondering when his parents were coming home from the store only for a policeman to show up at the door. He gave her the benefit of the doubt for as long as it took him to make and eat his breakfast, assuming she was sleeping in after getting absorbed by some task or another.

Then she didn’t answer the door when he knocked at noon. He had the key so he let himself in and found no sign of her. He called her phone and didn’t hear it ring; the closet was left open and there were some hangers left on the bed.

The spiral was a dramatic flurry of cleaning. Her cottage was left spotless, almost as if Thomas was hoping she’d been hiding under the lime stains or fallen into a pile of canvas that she couldn’t dig her way out of. Then his own home became even more painfully clean than normal, every particle of unwanted matter scrubbed out of existence. The garden was weeded and the soil turned so much he’d almost killed the plants in his quest to eradicate the absolutely terrifying feeling blooming in his chest.

Abandonment. Loneliness. Worthlessness.

He was a mass of blankets and despair, appearance totally disregarded, when she found him.

“Thomas?” He thought it was a dream until his shoulder was shaken. “Did I do this?”

“An?”

“Oh Thomas, I’m so sorry.” Some of the blankets were pulled away so that she might see him. Through bleary eyes, he looked up at a worried face. “I’m so sorry, I’m an idiot.”

“Where did you go?”

“I got a call in the middle of the night,” she sat on the edge of the bed and put her hand on his arm, “my ma was really sick, in the hospital, they didn’t know if she would make it.”

“An, I’m so-”

“I’m sorry I left without telling you, I was so upset, and then I left my phone at my parents’ and-”

“An, it’s-”

“You thought I left you all because I forgot, I’m still not used to someone caring where I am, I-”

“I overreacted-”

“I should’ve been more cons-”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Aneirin combed his hair with her fingers. “I will try to be more thoughtful.”

Thomas took her hand and placed it over his heart. “Is she alright?”

“Yes, she’s back home.”

He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry this all happened.”

“Me too.”

“I shouldn’t be so fragile, I-”

“Don’t apologize for that. We all have things. I’ve learned my lesson.” She leaned down to kiss him. “First order of business is getting you clean.”

“I am very much looking forward to it.”


	51. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: General  
> Warnings: None  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC)  
> Pairing: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character  
> Tags: AU: Canon Divergence, Cadet Hux, Cadet Aneirin, Fluff  
> Words: 1026  
> Published: 2018-12-02, Revised: 2019-04-22  
> Summary: Cadet Hux learns a bit more about his Corsairan classmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.

Back home it was beginning to be wintertime and Miriam Pritchard would be decorating the home as she did without fail every year. There wouldn’t be any celebrating at the Academy, such things were frivolous, so there would be no holidays of any type. So, Aneirin’s mother snuck her small little reminders through the mail with her regular parcel of snacks.

This time it was mistletoe. Last year it had been gingerbread, which Aneirin didn’t really like and used to sneak to her father to avoid hurting a certain baker’s feelings.

She would have preferred the gingerbread again. She very much would have preferred a nice fruitcake, but it would turn into a brick in the time it took to get between the two planets.

Aneirin could just throw it out, her mother would never know. Magnus, her father, tried to send a camera through the mail, but the people at the First Order field office on Corsaira were having none of it. ‘Suspicious of Spy Activity,’ they’d called it, even after they were shown how it worked.

Instead, she stuck it over the door to her closet. It would be difficult to run into someone there. Besides, no one knew the traditions.

Under utterly ridiculous pretences, Cadet Hux arrived at her dorm room door. He did that sometimes, just showed up with some half-baked reason. This time it was imperative that, with the snow outside making their normal meeting spot in the garden unusable, he would come to ask about her biweekly package.

“They’re mostly sweets, I’m sorry.” Aneirin picked the box off her desk for him to investigate. She didn’t really have anywhere for him to sit, they’d taken the extra set of furniture from her room over the summer, so she plopped herself down on the bed.

“Oh? It’s not your birthday.” Her stomach felt funny. He remembered her birthday or at least remembered it well enough to know it hadn’t come yet.

“It’s a holiday. Normally I’d be helping her bake cookies and things to give away. I suppose she didn’t want me to feel left out.” She watched as Armitage sorted through the individual bags and settled on one filled with chocolate-covered nuts. It was funny seeing how picky he was, trying to determine the centre of any given piece by its shape. He wasn’t fond of peanuts, apparently. That had taken some experimenting. “You know, I can always make requests for you, I do it for the guys.”

“I don’t want to seem particular,” he said with a little less confidence than normal before putting an almond in his mouth. Aneirin learned that despite their friendship, he would rather sound prideful than seem considerate, which was sweet in the doses it was administered. She never felt like he was embarrassed by their comfortable relationship, though he sometimes let his jealousy show in the presence of her three protective friends. The new piece of greenery in her room caught his eye. “I don’t recognize that.”

“It’s mistletoe.” The Corsairan inwardly groaned.

“Oh?”

“It’s just a stupid tradition.”

“Have I ever implied that I find your traditions mockable?” Ever prim and proper, even when he was casually eating her food and sitting in her chair with his long legs crossed at the knees. Armitage had a way of making the most familiar interactions intense, like being invited into a captain’s waiting room just to have a nice little chat about which shade of black was best.

“No, I suppose not.”

_The superior shade of black is obviously onyx._

“Does it have something to do with closets?”

_Well, there’s obsidian._

“No, you, uh…”

_Don’t be absurd._

Armitage lifted a brow expectantly and put what he thought was a hazelnut in his mouth.

_Well, then, I guess we can’t be friends anymore._

It was a peanut, she could tell by the way his brows came together, his jaw stopped its mastication, and he simply swallowed whatever was left even if it was a bit too large to be comfortable.

_That’s even more absurd._

“You’re supposed to kiss under it.” The words more or less tumbled out of her mouth and there was a moment where Armitage could have been mistaken for a very lifelike statue. “Well, rather, people put it up in doorways and such, so when two people met under it you were supposed to kiss.”

“Ah.” He didn’t move much. Maybe he was still feeling betrayed by the peanut. “Why?”

“Oh, some people say the mistletoe is a plant of fertility because it grows in the harsh winter climate. There’s also a tradition in some cultures that peace after war was made under the mistletoe. Of course, my ancient people had one god kill another god with mistletoe, which was a lesson about contracts and so forth. For every object on Corsaira, there’s about fifty different meanings and stories.”

“Ah. We don’t celebrate holidays, I’m not accustomed to this sort of… thing.” The redhead turned his attention back to the box of treats to see if there was anything else. His face would have lit up with delight at the discovery of chocolate-covered fruits if his mind wasn’t revolving around something else. “Clever, putting it above the closet.”

“I felt bad, throwing it away.”

“Not that anyone else knew what it was for, of course.”

“That’s true.” Aneirin was frozen in place as Armitage unfurled from the desk chair like a spider that had been lying in wait. He walked over to the closet, plucked the white berry plant, and marched it over to the doorway where the wad of adhesive was pushed onto the frame. “Oh.”

“I should be going, I know you’re very busy.” He stepped through the door and she went to see him out, which was a stupid move. Ever the prideful actor, he pretended to forget the bag of sweets in his hand and turned to give them back. “Tell your mother I said thank you, as always.”

“Of cour-” His lips tasted like chocolate and pineapple. “Oh.”

“You will have to teach me some of your other traditions. I’ve enjoyed the ones I’ve learned so far.”


	52. Dollars to Peanuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [WC: ~1600, SFW, unrevised]
> 
> Request from Tumblr regarding a Reader Family Holiday featuring Armitage having to eat some baked goods with peanuts out of politeness.

Armitage never had the chance to experience the joy of camaraderie and family nor did he ever have a sense of culture. He simply never felt as if he truly belonged, his devotion to the First Order completely artificial and forced just to have something to be a part of. He had tried turning off the human part of himself so he wouldn’t have to feel this way, but somehow feeling nothing at all was worse, he would rather feel bad than nothing. Even when he began to meet others his age who had planets for homes and proper families, no one acted quite like his wife. Maybe they were too jaded. 

To say they were polar opposites would be incorrect. The opposite of Cadet Hux was bubbly, loud, mean to people who loved them, and a backstabbing snake. Against popular belief, the redhead was capable of great empathy and compassion and was fiercely loyal to a select few. Aneirin was calm and quiet just like her better half ( _she’s more than my better half_ ) but she was much more likely to express her emotions. This was because she was raised with love and care, encouraged to be an individual. 

In Academy, it had started with a general curiosity. Why did certain times of year mean different food in her packages? What was the significance of colors? Please explain the purpose of bonfires.

The war was behind them and when Aneirin asked what he wanted to do now, Armitage straightened up, puffed out his chest, and with bold finality said ‘I want to meet your parents.’ There had been several times when it was uncertain if he would have the chance and he didn’t want to lose it. He simply needed to know what it was like to be part of a real family.

It just so happened that when they got to Corsaira it was winter and in the village of Finndale they would be celebrating Yule. This apparently consisted of a lot of food, much of which was exchanged from person to person, the telling of folktales, bonfires, and a lot of alcohol. Armitage thought no other holiday would be as easy as Yule for his first family celebration.

“Oh!” Miriam cried in excitement as the pair of retired admirals came through the door. She embraced her daughter, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and let go so she could admire her new son-in-law. The woman’s hair was a silvery color that used to be gold or possibly brown once upon a time, he knew her to be in her early 60s but she wore the years well. Her smile was bright upon laying eyes on him and she approached to give him his own hug. “Aren’t you darling? A pleasure to meet you finally, Armitage.”

No one but Aneirin had ever given him a hug. Maybe when he was very small someone had, or maybe they’d excused it as just having to hold a small child, but the fact remained that he had no recollection of anyone else ever hugging him. Miriam was not quite as short as her daughter, though the weight of time had caused a slight curve in her back, so he was distracted for a moment analyzing how height factored into hugs. “It is a pleasure to meet you as well. I have been looking forward to it, ma’am.”

“Oh! ‘Ma’am!’ Listen to those manners. You don’t need to call me ma’am, just call me Ma. Or do you call your mother that?”

“How about just ‘Miriam’ for now? You’ve just met, after all,” Aneirin was quick to intercept the discussion of mothers. Armitage didn’t know the doctor was capable of such a loving but wilting gaze.

“You know,” the matron didn’t miss a beat from the interruption, “you remind me of Aggie when he was young. Of course, he had his hair in braids and I think when he was your size he was only 16. That was quite a long time ago, a lifetime, but looking at you I remember it like yesterday.”

Armitage had been shown countless photos of the Reader family and friends, so he knew roughly what he was expecting in Magnus Reader. “Well, you don’t look a day over 30.”

“Is that my son-in-law I hear flirting with my lovely bride?”

Armitage had not actually been as prepared to meet the father of his wife as he thought he was. 

Magnus’s voice was surprisingly soft compared to how much space he took up in the world. Aneirin had said he stood at six-feet and 10-inches and once was made like a statue carved from muscle and bone. His skin was lined and dark from working in the sun and despite his age, his hair was still a fiery mane from crown to the end of his bushy beard, grey and silver hairs peppered in almost like a taunt. _Bet you 100 credits you can’t guess my age, pal._

“Cat got your tongue, son?” The younger redhead hadn’t realized he had been staring with his mouth agape. He quickly shut it. “I was only teasing.”

“Of course, I apologize, I…” Armitage was at a loss for words. “You’re massive.”

Magnus gave a hearty laugh and clapped the other man’s shoulder with a large hand. There was a crack of a spine as it was pushed back into proper alignment. “Descended from giants! And yet I seem to have a dwarf for a daughter. I should have asked some questions when she stopped growing, I kept expecting her to dig a hole in the garden to be at home in the dirt.”

“No, you have the same eyes. And possibly the same nose, if you all didn’t seem to have a global habit of getting them broken.” Inwardly, Armitage was screaming at himself for his mouthiness. However, everyone seemed to find his comment humorous and in good spirit.

Normally Armitage was quick in a conversation but somehow he was deposited on a comfortable couch, asked a whirlwind of excited questions, and when they stopped he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten there. A clock on the wall told him it had been an hour. He was then abandoned by his wife who left him in the capable hands of her mother while her father wanted to discuss something outside. Desperately he needed to smoke a cigarette, but by the clean wood smell of the home, he could guess that Miriam Reader did not abide by her husband smoking his pipe indoors and he’d promised Aneirin he was trying to cut back.

A plate was put in his hands. “Go on, dinner isn’t for a bit, you’re probably hungry after all of that traveling.”

Without question, he put a cube into his mouth. The baker had sent Aneirin packages all throughout Academy and Armitage had shared many of them with her. It was not often he regretted it. He regretted it this time.

_Why did it have to be peanuts?_

He had been so nervous about offending his new parents that he had managed to bypass all instincts. Instead of screwing up his face and begrudgingly swallowing in order to not seem like a petulant child, he quirked his lips in a slight smile and hummed. “It’s Aggie’s favorite.”

_I guess I will have to eat the whole plate then._

So he did, which was a mistake. The mother snatched up his plate and returned with more. “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

“Please, I make so much of it, don’t be shy.” Her broad smile silently insisted that he could and would eat everything offered.

So he ate every bite. “You wouldn’t happen to have… any tea?”

“Oh, I could whip us up some hot chocolates.” Armitage’s mouth was smiling but internally he was screaming again, clawing at the walls of his psyche. “You like the really bitter kind, yes? I remember my little angel telling me that once.”

“Oh, yes, please, if you have it.” The woman left the room and instinctively his green eyes darted around looking for some way to dispose of the peanut butter fudge without his mother-in-law finding it. There were only three pieces left, but it was three pieces too many.

Just as Miriam returned with a tea tray and Armitage thought he was going to implode from the pressure of having to eat more peanuts, Aneirin returned with her father. Seeing the cubes still neatly stacked on the dessert plate in his lap like bricks from a hopeful wall, the doctor gasped in disbelief. “Ma, I told you, he doesn’t eat peanuts.”

“He already ate 7 pieces,” the Reader matron protested. She looked horrified and placed a hand on her heart as if it would leap out of her chest. “Oh, bless your heart, you didn’t need to do that to be polite, darling.”

“I-” Armitage looked to his wife, then to her father, and finally to the woman he’d worried about offending. “I would really like that hot chocolate now.”

There was a stunned silence. He couldn’t move. Then Aneirin started snorting with the effort of holding back a laugh. He still wasn’t sure what was happening until she took the plate from him and brought the warm mug the rest of the way to his hands. She gave his cheek a peck. “Your father’s rolling in his grave.”


	53. Exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG  
> Warnings: Implied Nudity  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC)  
> Pairing: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character  
> Tags: AU: Modern, AU: College  
> Words: 2308  
> Published: 2018-12-10, Revised: 2019-04-22  
> Summary: Engineering student Armitage Hux likes to pose for the art students' figure studies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.

Armitage Hux had one activity that he couldn’t quite explain why he did it.

While he was an engineering student, he’d taken an interest in being a model for the art students. Sometimes clothed or draped with a piece of fabric, but usually naked, he’d keep a pose for however long their exercise was set to last, letting his mind turn over his own work while his body was perfectly still. He didn’t pay much attention to the faces behind the canvases or pads of paper, their faces smudged with charcoal or paint. The activity was almost medical in its subjectivity, its lack of sexiness, but he still felt a little bit like an object put up for praise under the multitude of lights, sitting in a circle of critical eyes.

Usually, the room was too cold but that day they must have found some extra space heaters or maybe one too many artists were running fevers. There was about half the class time left, given what he could see of the clock from the corner of his eye, and he looked forward to going home to have dinner and do homework until it was much too far into the night when sleeping seemed pointless. It seemed that too many nights of this caught up with him as his eyes grew heavy and, his face leaning upon his hand, Armitage fell asleep.

Sometime later, about an hour or so if he remembered the last time he saw on the clock correctly, Armitage awoke. His body was sore and his mouth was dry, but he was warm and rested. While he’d fallen asleep without clothing, he was now draped with a coat that was not his own. It was a soft charcoal-grey wool with black round pucks for buttons. On him, it would’ve been a jacket but the length of the arms made it more likely that it would be long on its wearer.

Looking around he saw that he was alone in the room, the lights turned low and the heaters still on. After a moment of gathering his wits, the lithe pale figure unfolded from the chair and went to where he had left his clothing in a neatly folded pile. He considered leaving the coat in the room for its owner to come back for but when he picked it back up he heard the clink of keys and knew he would feel guilty if his caretaker lost them to nefarious pilfering hands.

If the owner had forgotten their keys then undoubtedly they would not have been able to get home and, given the chill outside, only the most acclimated of people, which the owner was most likely not, would brave the elements without a coat. So, dressed and fully conscious, Armitage slung the wool coat over his arm and left the drawing room, which he noted had been locked from the inside. He wandered through the halls and into the basement where the more advanced students had workspaces laid out in long rows with their swivelling lamps and adjustable drawing surfaces. The coat lent itself to be for a woman so he ignored all of the male students and also anyone with coats hanging on their chairs. So he made his way down one aisle towards a young woman with dark blonde hair that he vaguely recognized.

The woman in question was leaning over her table, seemingly tired and distracted as she stared at her paper with heavy eyes and one hand propping up her head as he had been doing. When he stood behind her she didn’t react, allowing him to peer over her shoulder. The piece she was immediately attempting to work on meant nothing to him but he could identify one peeking out from a disorderly pile as the figure study he’d been the subject of. Armitage made his presence known by clearing his throat and the young woman came to confused attention, looking a bit stunned at the sight of him. He smirked and was delighted with himself at the rise of colour in her cheeks, the way she couldn’t decide what to do with her lips.

“Does this belong to you?” He held out his arm for her to appraise the garment and shyly she nodded.

“Thank you, I think I left my keys in it.” Gently she took the coat from him and slid her hand right into the pocket that held her keys.

“ _I_ should be thanking _you_ , love.” Armitage found that girls enjoyed the English accent he got from his father and stepmother even though he’d been spending most of his life in the United States. It was almost like cheating to use it. The young woman grew even shyer and he decided to have a bit of fun. Leaning his hip against the desk he ghosted his long pale fingers over her work even though he already had something in mind. Flicking past some other sketches he came to the one from that day.

It floored him. Never before had he thought he’d see himself be so soft and vulnerable. His head perfectly balanced on his hand, hair loose against his face, and the relaxed nature of his pose lent themselves to someone not worried or paranoid.

He heard a meek voice that pulled him from his little world. “I apologize, what did you say?”

“I asked if you were okay.”

Armitage’s eyes washed over the image once more before he brought his attention back to her. “Of course, I’m quite alright.”

He noticed a smudge on her face, most likely the pencil she’d been using. From his own pocket, he produced a handkerchief and the coat’s owner turned a deep shade of red as he rubbed the mark away. “If you’re not too occupied… I would _love_ to buy you a drink, to thank you for your kindness.”

It was absolutely adorable to see the blonde occupy her nervousness by playing with her fingers. “I-I don’t know… I didn’t really do anything.”

“Nonsense, love. But you can say no, I think my ego will recover. It’s been quite bolstered by this…” He was acutely aware that his expression was being dissected as he once again appraised the figure study. “May I have it?”

“You want a picture of yourself?”

“I suppose people have portraits of themselves… maybe you’re right, that is quite si-”

“No!” Armitage was a little startled by her sudden boldness. She looked embarrassed. “You were affected by it… if it makes you feel something, I want you to have it. That’s what art is about, at least to me.”

He watched as she prepared the paper to be safely transported in a folder and he took it graciously. “Well, I will see you next session.”

“My last class ends at 6:30.” Maybe she was shy and looking at his feet but she was most definitely smiling a little.

“See you then.”

* * *

It was a college town, there were several bars around, but all of the art classes were in the one building, so Armitage stood outside of what could be considered the main entrance smoking a cigarette. He should have quit, should have never started, but he was considerate enough to keep away from people when he did it, never smoked indoors, and tried to keep the smell from everything he owned. It had started to snow again and he was distracted by the gentle fall of white in the orange glow of the lighted walkways.

“Did you still want to go?” By his shoulder was the familiar coat, knitted hat and scarf, and a pair of gloves with several bags strapped to it all as if to keep it together.

“I do indeed,” he purred, putting out his cigarette with his foot before placing it in the sand of a trash bin. “Do you need help carrying some of that?”

“Oh, I-” at just the right time she dropped her portfolio bag, which Armitage picked up and slung over his shoulder. “Yes, thank you very much.”

Together they walked across the paver walkway towards downtown, moving from one illuminated patch to another. He could hear that for every step he took there were two thuds of her boots, so he slowed his stride. “I never got your name, love.”

“Aneirin,” she said after lifting her mouth up above her scarf.

“An interesting name.” He offered her his gloved hand. “Armitage.”

“I like it.” The art student shook his hand once she’d felt secure leaving a strap unattended. “You’re English?”

“Yes, but I have since been naturalized. Dual citizenship and all that. Been here since I was, oh, twelve?” The engineering student flashed a grin. “You’re from around here, I can tell.”

“I try not to sound it but it comes back out when I talk to people who also are from around here,” she muttered into her scarf, trying to hide her accent.

“Nothing to be ashamed of, I find it charming.” Armitage never had trouble catching people’s attention, but his little caretaker appeared to be trying her damnedest to not give it. Maybe that was what had made her appealing, not falling over herself to give her number or stare too much.

The bar was warm and thankfully not crowded, giving them the chance at a nice corner seat where they could watch the snow fall. They got over the awkward start of small talk when she launched into a seemingly well-rehearsed discussion of the presence of math in art and explained her thesis project. Armitage felt afraid to offer his own insights as they became relevant for fear of derailing her train of thought. He got the distinct feeling she wasn’t used to being listened to, or at least not being listened to by someone who was expressing as much interest as he was. Eventually, Aneirin grew quiet and looked into her second pint of beer, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t let you talk, I got carried away.”

“No, it’s refreshing, seeing someone so passionate. I didn’t want to interrupt what was a very interesting subject,” he soothed, offering a gentle smile. It wasn’t just the beer making her flush. Her eyes darted away to the snow outside as she sipped her drink. His mind went to the sketch in his bag. “I wouldn’t mind being your personal model. If you needed one.”

She choked on her beer and the redhead quickly produced napkins to help her clean up. Everything taken care of she stared at him incredulously. “Personal model?”

“Well, if you wanted some extra figure practice, needed someone for a particular pose…” Armitage wasn’t quite sure what he’d suggested, it just seemed like the right way to see more of her without other people around.

It took her some time to consider his offer. “I guess sometimes it is pretty hard to find a certain reference…”

“Let me give you my number, then.” It was almost heartbreaking to him how much she couldn’t believe this was happening. Some people really did go around being invisible.

* * *

It probably took a lot of courage on Aneirin’s part to ask him to be a figure for a project. Armitage could imagine her, typing the same message twenty times and agonizing over how much enthusiasm to express, how long it should be, was it too forward? But in the end, he was sitting in his apartment on the nicer part of town wearing his more voluminous robe to produce the right amount of drapery. Green eyes watched her rather intently as she worked, the poor girl looking a little uncomfortable having a private session. Eventually, she was done and putting away her things. “I was going to open a bottle of wine if you’d like to join me.”

“Never liked wine much,” she managed to get out after tripping over her words. There was the distinct look of someone realizing once again that they are low on the social totem pole compared to the person to whom they’re speaking. “Thank you though.”

“I have some beers, you might like one.” Armitage made sure his robe was cinched closed before he got up from his chair, lingering near her as she made sure she had everything she came with.

“It’s okay, I have a long way back to my place and it’s pretty cold.”

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just wanted to spend some time with you, find something to talk about,” he was morose but he tried to school himself to not sound as if he was giving her grief. “I understand, completely.”

“Why would you want to talk to me?” She was genuinely confused.

“You’re interesting. I had a nice time speaking with you the other day.” The redhead pretended to be distracted by the cleaning of his nails. “I like the way you see me.”

“I didn’t realize there was any other way,” Aneirin replied quietly. When Armitage stepped forward she didn’t step back. She only stared at him as his hand came up to her cheek. She giggled. “Your hand is cold.”

“I apologize.” Before it could stray too far the artist took his hand between hers and rubbed it to warm up. “You think I’m playing with you.”

“I’ve been made fun of before, didn’t really care for it.”

“I’m not making fun of you. I really want to get to know you. I don’t know how to convince you it’s the truth.” He extricated his hand when she stopped rubbing it and put it against her cheek again. “We could order dinner. Maybe I’ll get a chance to tell you about my project this time.”

The gears of her mind moved hiddenly but she did deliberately swallow to clear her throat. It still cracked a little. “Chinese?”

“Your wish is my command.”


	54. Kaleidoscope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: General  
> Warnings: None  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC)  
> Pairing: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character  
> Tags: Canonverse, AU: Soulmate  
> Words: 790  
> Published: 2018-12-11, Revised: 2019-04-23  
> Summary: When Hux is tired of chasing the tracks of his supposed soulmate, he gives up on love only for it to find him and bring colour to his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.

There had been patches of colour everywhere around the Academy, great swathes of it in the gardens and some seats, the infirmary was practically littered with them. People’s hands and jackets, slight splotches on faces. He could trace the paths the person took, yet he never found the source.

Armitage has been told his hair was red and that no one had red hair. Without being able to see it, he hated it. Once he’d tried dyeing it, but he’d mistaken purple for black. Brendol threw a fit, but he was amused that his son had even tried.

Occasionally the colours of things could be seen around the ships, mainly on people who filtered in from other assignments. Once he was on a station and saw the footprints like lines of ants. He’d let himself get excited and tried to find their owner again, but she was long gone. His only hope squashed, Armitage buried his feelings into a little ball in his heart and forgot about them.

Maybe he blocked out the colours as they spread, or maybe killing one’s need for love made them recede until they disappeared. He stopped caring that his hair was red, he couldn’t see it. It was better he never knew what he was missing. Imagining what the world would be like with colour was akin to imagining what it would be like to be another species.

It was just his luck that when he was to meet the new chief medical officer for Finalizer that he’d landed himself in a medbay bed. The general didn’t remember hitting the floor, he briefly recalled talking to Lieutenant Mitaka, but to him, it could have been anything from poison to one of Ren’s mindtricks. All he knew was that he woke up in a private room of the medbay.

And that things were awash with colour.

What had caught his eye was all the little hand- and fingerprints around the room. Drawers being pulled open, equipment, the bed. His arms. Armitage hastily grabbed something chrome and shiny and held it up. 

Bright golden red. Or at least, that’s what it had been described to him as since he didn’t exactly have the words yet. He must have stuck out like a sore thumb to all the people who could see it. There were more splotches of skin on his face that had come to life; his cheek had been touched quite a bit and there was a mostly-square shape on his forehead. His eyelids had been likely pulled back and he could see that his eyes were a pale green that caught the light in interesting ways.

“Good to see you’re awake, General.” The door had swished open without him noticing and Armitage neither recognized the voice nor its accent.

The chrome bowl clattered on the floor.

“Are you alright?” The short blonde doctor with her blue eyes, pink lips, and a white coat leaned down to pick up the bowl and placed it on a supply cabinet. The back of her warm soft hand felt his forehead. “You exhausted yourself. We’ll need to get you back in tip-top shape. Can’t have our generals dropping on the floor again. Thankfully you avoided too much injury, just a few bruises.”

“What colour is your hair?”

She blinked and a bemused smile curled her lips. “You know, when they had to explain this to me, I thought everyone was pulling my leg. ‘How can you all not see colours?’ I tried finding an explanation but there was none.”

“You’ve always seen colours?” Armitage looked around the room, noticed her footprints on the floor, some areas like puddles where she had to keep shifting in place.

The doctor, his new CMO, General Aneirin Pritchard, shrugged. “I suppose it’s not a universal thing.”

He was having a hard time processing this and in reaction to his stunned silence she sat on the edge of his bed, datapad discarded on a table. “It’s in the yellow family. I called it a dark gold.”

“Oh.”

“I love your hair. It suits your eyes. Reminds me of home.”

“Oh?”

She laughed mirthfully. “You seem surprised.”

Armitage shifted in the bed. “A bit.”

“I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Armitage. I can call you that, can’t I?” He didn’t think he’d ever seen a face so honest and open. So sweet. Maybe it was the colours.

“Yes. You can.” The general hated his name, but it sounded nice in her accent.

“Good, because I like saying it.” She leaned in and pressed her lips against his. “Get some rest and we’ll discuss breaking your bad habits.”

Even though the ship was made of blacks and greys, his whole world was bright.


	55. Asha's Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old stuff of mine, Jedi Assassin saves Hux from a pirate attack that lands him on a planet of thieves and killers. They eventually screw because why not.  
> Reuploaded. Originally posted Feb 8, 2018  
> NSFW., Unrevised  
>  **Word Count:** 11,303

They’d been set upon by pirates, not uncommon for this region of space, but the General had a bad habit of believing himself invulnerable. It started with a well-placed shot to the engine while entering atmosphere, the poor pilot having no choice but to struggle for a landing. The impact was particularly rough, the nose buried itself into the soft earth and kicked it up as they came in too quickly. Everything unsecured flew around the interior, but there was no time to gather themselves before the personnel hatch was blown inwards, striking several troopers with deadly force. The pilot and remaining troopers scrambled for their weapons and managed only stray shots towards their assailants before being mowed down. Hux locked the door to his private quarters to give him more time to find his own blaster, with his luck it probably had skittered under the bed. Desperately he felt the edge of it, trying to gain purchase with a gloved hand, but it managed to slip further away before the lock on his door was overridden.

He turned to be face to face with the rifle, behind it a member of some species he didn’t quite recognize with all of the scars and tiny objects embedded in the skin of its face. It took aim at him, but it had no chance to fire before more shots rang out. Its head turned to the side to investigate the noise, and Hux watched as it tried to reposition its weapon into the hallway, flinching with what might have been fear, but before it managed to, the muzzle of a pistol was pressed between its eyes. It managed to gurgle out a plea, the rifle beginning to drop from its hands, but it wasn’t soon enough before the gloved hand pulled its trigger, a loud boom filling the ship and causing Hux’s ears to ring. The body fell with a sickening thud, its blood splattered across the pistol and presumably its owner. He watched as a pair of boots stepped into his doorway, blue eyes almost immediately locking with his.

To his surprise it was a woman, dressed in a long black leather coat, blood splattered across her stern face. Hux stared up in shock, still holding one hand to an ear uselessly trying to quell the ringing. It wasn’t until she took a step towards him, heels sticky with the blood pool slowly forming around them, that he’d noticed he’d been shaking like a scared child. He stared into her face uncertainly, catching the expression turn from a hard seriousness to soft sympathy. He flinched as she reached out her other hand towards him, staring instead at the blood smeared across the leather. Noticing his hesitance she pulled it back, using her teeth to pull the glove away and stashed it into a pocket of her coat before offering it again. Hux tried to speak but the words came out in a faltering tone, his damaged ears messing with the perception of his voice. Instead of fighting, he took the hand and was pulled to his feet as gently as could be managed.

As he stood his legs still trembled in shock and he cursed himself as he stumbled. A strong arm caught him across the chest and he felt his face rub against the cold leather of his benefactor’s shoulder. He heard her speak but it was muffled and when he didn’t respond she pulled him closer, guiding him back out into the hallway. He wanted to fight, he would not be coddled by some stranger, he was a damn general, but he looked down to see the floor of the ship almost entirely red with blood, darkening where it dried. Hux felt the blood drain from his face but he refused to look away as the mystery woman helped him walk towards the cockpit. There he saw the defeated bodies of his crew, riddled with blaster shots, but also the bodies of their murderers, each with one precise hole between their eyes like the one who took aim at him. The woman paid them no mind as she helped him out of the blown hatch, easily lifting his body by the waist with one arm despite his protests.

She began walking him past the pirates’ vessel towards a distant light he could see in the horizon, but as they passed the nose of ship he saw blood splattered across the viewport’s glass, presumably a dead pilot on the floor behind it. Occasionally he was guided around depressions in the ground, too dark for him to make out the terrain under his boots, and once he was lifted again, the splash of feet telling him they were traversing a stream or river, and he was almost thankful that she spared him having to navigate the rocky bottom or have the water seep into his boots. As they got closer he could make out the light above a door, the door curiously set into the face of a mountain’s cliff, a mountain his now-dead pilot had barely avoided in their crash landing. Upon approach the door swung outward while they were still a few paces away, but Hux saw no one who could have opened it for them.

Inside he felt the waves of heat coming from a fire set into the far stone wall, a stark contrast to the chill of the outside. The woman left him standing near the entrance as she cleared off the piles of clothes and books lying atop a wooden bench near the fire. She gestured to it and he saw her lips move in flickering light but he still had trouble hearing her words. A frown curled the corners of her mouth downward and she came forward to grab his arm gently and tug him into the strange home. He was encouraged to sit on the bench and his eyes followed her as she went to the opposite wall and pulled a blanket off of what he presumed to be her bed. When she returned she wrapped it around his shoulders and across his chest, tugging at it to make sure it spilled over his legs. She gave him a smile before disappearing through a hole in the wall he had not noticed before. Taking this time without her presence he looked around her accommodations.

The room was hewn from the rocky insides of the mountain, metal banding bracing the ceiling. The bench he sat on and the frame of the bed across from him were made of a rough wood, polished in some spots where they found more use than others. The fire crackled in a depression carved into the wall, a metal bar set above it and a pipe leading the smoke along the ceiling and out into the air outside. There was not much else to the room except a low table littered with weapon parts and mismatched electronics. In the firelight he caught a glimpse of something shiny and chrome tucked underneath the mattress but before he could make it out the woman had returned. In her hands were a bowl piled with fruit and a plate layered with cured meat and cut bread. She pushed the table closer to where he sat, clearing away a spot with the toe of her boot, and put the food down in front of him. When he looked up she smiled before nodding at him and walking back into the hidden alcove. Tentatively he reached out and took a piece of the sliced meat, feeling it melt in his mouth and the salty taste cover his tongue. As he grew bolder in eating he heard the sound of running water and splashing through the carved doorway. He was curious how such a primitive lodging could have running water.

He had no sense of time in this place but the fireplace had dimmed by the time the woman came back, the logs crumbling inwards as they burned. She hung her leather coat on a peg and threw a pile of black cloth underneath it. In the dying light he could see her hair was damp, the blood washed away from her face, and the clothes she wore no longer clung to her strong form with sweat. Rifling through the pile of discarded items by his seat, she sat beside him as she pulled out a tablet of paper and a pen. She flicked through many pages of sketches and writing before she came to a blank page. There she wrote carefully in blocky letters: my name is Asha. Holding it out for him to read she smiled as he glanced between the page and her face. Taking it back she began to write something else: I’m sorry for your ears. He simply shook his head in response.

Asha proceeded to ask him questions in this manner, like his name, where he was from, and eventually if he wanted to use her bath. He gave her his surname, Armitage, knowing it was basically unknown outside of his personnel records, and told her he was from Arkanis, which he had been at some point. Thinking her some hermit on this lawless planet he assumed she had limited knowledge of the First Order, probably correct in his assumption that she didn’t seem to recognize his uniform. When she asked if he wanted to clean himself he sternly shook his head no, her face downcast into apology. They sat for several moments in silence, Hux staring at his feet as she stared at the paper on her lap. Eventually she told him that he could use her bed to sleep and when she rose to leave he watched her pull the chrome object from the mattress and stuff it in the pocket of her jacket. Without question or second glance she walked through the front door and into the night.

Hux refused to let down his guard in this stranger’s dungeon of a home, even if he had no chance at defending himself against her should she decide to have mechanizations against his life. To avoid sleep he began to pick through and inspect the pile of random things on the table. Several pieces looked to be parts of blasters or rifles, their design foreign to him. Others were electronics like tracking or guidance systems but their parts were strewn about haphazardly from where she’d made space for his meal. Scraps of paper sat around, lists of names crossed out, details of ‘target’ movements. There was an outline of what appeared to be the local government, what little there was of it, names crossed out and replaced several times and some circled in different colored ink like a code he was not privy to.

The books were filled with handwritten notes and sketches of flora and fauna, some pages even of humans across from their names, family members, whereabouts, and important details (next to a rather unremarkable human male’s face were the words 'shows no mercy, spare no mercy’). Animals were judged on their ferocity and instincts, the quality of their meat, and various uses for other body parts. He wasn’t surprised to see that some aspects were highlighted in red, such as the toxicity of a serpent’s venom or the extract of a fish’s organs. Plants were categorized with the same attention to detail, the drawings so life-like for some that he ran his hand over the page to make sure they were not pressed on. Hux found manuals on combat, the strategies of long-dead generals, designs for weapons both modern and ancient, the histories of planets he’d barely heard of, the mythos of others, and even a detailed lineage of the rulers of the long-destroyed planet of Alderaan.

The objects Asha had pushed onto the floor to make space for him would not have surprised him if he’d found them in the collection of some rich planet delegate, the kind of people who would claim such things were in their family before the dawn of time or that they’d paid an emperor’s ransom for. On a planet known for smugglers, thieves, and murderers, Hux considered whether his savior had been all of those. However he could not parse why a smuggler or thief would hold onto such priceless objects, let alone treat them like worthless junk to accommodate a guest. If she knew who he was she did not give any sign, he didn’t see his face or the face of anyone he knew from the First Order in the files he flipped through. It seemed unlikely that she was holding him to be ransomed to the First Order or handed over to the Resistance; she hadn’t bound him nor even seemed to lock the door when she left. As far as he could tell there was not even a lock on it.

Briefly he thought about opening it and running, but he reminded himself that he was unarmed on a ruthless planet, a planet that he did not know how to navigate and obviously had citizens willing to kill him over his boots. If someone recognized him or even his uniform he might be captured to be ransomed, but surely not without losing some fingers in the process. The writing in many of the newer books and scraps of paper had been similar enough to his correspondence with this Asha for him to believe that she’d written the documentation on murdered people and manufacturing poisons. With this in mind he considered that if he did leave it was just as likely that he’d be found by her before even having the chance of being killed by thugs.

The light in the fire had burned down to cinders without him noticing. His eyes began to feel heavy and he couldn’t focus on any subject. He found himself idly tracing the outline of a particularly beautiful bloom with his finger, reading over and over again its nameplate, 'Asha’s Tears.’ Hux struggled to stay awake, mistakenly thinking he could prop himself against the table and rest his eyes for just long enough to regain strength.

* * *

When he woke up he found that his face was not pressed into hard wood like he’d remembered last, but instead the soft material of a pillow. His body felt heavy as he tried to sit up, finding himself curled underneath not only a thin sheet, but the fur blanket he’d been wrapped in the night before, her leather coat, and his great coat, which had been forgotten about in his shuttle’s private quarters. He felt beneath his hands the material of his black shirt, not the uniform jacket he’d been wearing, and his socks brushed the bed where his boots had been removed. Looking around in a panic he saw the jacket hanging from a peg and his boots sitting side-by-side, polished to a mirror sheen by the foot of the bed. The fire had been renewed, the air smelled of wood and cooking meat with spices. In front of the fire sat a black pot, presumably some breakfast keeping warm. On the table was a wooden bowl, a ladle sitting on a saucer, a spoon laid out on a napkin, and a scrap of paper.

Cautiously Hux crawled out from beneath the cocoon of coats and blankets and walked to the low table, reaching down to pick up the note. In a less deliberate hand, more like the random notes he’d glanced at the day before, it read:

Armitage -  
Stew is venison and roots, more food in chest. Ship unusable, scavvers before me, buried companions, saved your coat. Will be back, please do not leave, planet hostile, saw bear this morning, very strange. Open door for no one, only opens for me. Make self at home, spring out back, old clothes under bed might fit.  
⁃ Asha

The writing seemed hasty, as if she tried to get out all of her thoughts before he woke up. He didn’t remember crawling into bed and certainly hadn’t layered on her coat to warm himself. He recalled being briefly jostled awake, barely conscious, but the memory of his face pressed against skin that wasn’t his felt too vivid to be a dream. There had been the feeling of brief weightlessness, he’d sighed in relief when his jacket had been unbuttoned and his boots removed. His hand had hit the floor as he relaxed into the mattress and soft hands pulled it up to lie across his chest before he felt the weight of the blankets. His hair had been brushed from his face where the gel had worn away and he could still hear a gentle voice bidding him sweet dreams. The memory disgusted him, as if he were being mothered, but a warmth welled from his core at the thought.

Hux had started eating the stew with great caution but found himself eating a third bowl, his body apparently ravenous. While eating he poured over the books filled with notes, finding curious tidbits about still-alive enemies of the First Order. One tome was different than the rest; it was written by hand but not in the style he’d come to identify as Asha’s slanted half-cursive. It was older than her writings but was by no means ancient; in it was detailed the mysterious deaths of officers and dignitaries of the old Empire. The last page had the sketched visage of a battle-scarred looking man with a grim expression, and a brief description in Asha’s hand. He noted how she referred to the man as 'master’, the tone of the dossier brimming with admiration, but later detailed how his death had been at the end of her blade. At the bottom of the page was a phrase in a language he did not recognize, underneath it was what looked like a strange signature, making out only the word 'Asha’.

Curious, Hux began looking through the books he’d previously ignored in favor of the ancient histories and encyclopedias. He found one written in another unfamiliar hand with pages older than the last, but the content was strikingly similar. More corrupted officials, families found guilty of vile acts against humanity, details of galaxy-wide conspiracies, and at the end of it all was another man’s face, his achievements lined out in the script not unlike the other log, signed with the name of Asha’s master. His trembling hands caused him to drop the book into his lap, his mouth slightly parted with morbid surprise. Gathering his wits he grabbed for other books, flipping to the ends to find a page written in the hand of the last. He’d gotten ten books deep before every book in the room was accounted for, carefully organized into stacks by content. The last one he’d found had been rather tattered and worn, making him suspect that if there ever had been any older than it, they were probably lost to the test of time.

His hope for new information was renewed when his eyes scanned the room, looking for any shelf he’d missed or the faint sign of a hidden compartment. What he found was a weathered plasteel chest tucked beneath the bed, half hidden by the draping sheets. It was so heavy that Hux had to brace his feet against the bed frame to pull it out onto the floor. It was just his luck that there was an old passcode interface locking it shut. He sighed in defeat, knowing nothing about its owner to even guess as to what the code could be. Like lightning an idea struck him; he reached for the book with the first dead man’s face and carefully read the bottom inscription. The foreign words had been at the end of every assassination record available, it was no coincidence. Thinking it was his only clue he typed it into the electronic lock. He let out a sigh of relief when he heard the lock click open.

Inside were more tomes, obviously very old and preserved in the chest. Gingerly opening the covers to each one he saw they were all of similar content, each in a different hand. When he opened the oldest he looked into the face of a long dead species, one that had died out during the time of the Old Republic. He was holding what could have been the oldest piece of sentient-made history known to the galaxy. The stories of the Old Republic were barely still shared, considered widely as practically folk lore and tales to scare small children. But in this book he read the names of common bogeymen from those stories, some only notes of figureheads deemed worthy of keeping their lives, details of ancient cities and societies long turned to dust.

In a panic he put everything back, shoving the locked chest back under the bed and throwing the blankets back in a close approximation of how he’d left them when he woke up. A cold sweat covered his skin as he organized the books into neat but randomized piles against the far wall, hoping to make it look as if he hadn’t been going through her personal belongings. As he stared at them, wondering if they were too obviously placed, he remembered that last night he’d fallen asleep obviously having been reading through one of the books so she had known he’d been snooping and said nothing. He loosened his jacket, suddenly too tight for him to breathe, and smelled the musk of his sweat. The note left for him that morning had mentioned a spring 'out back’ but it had also told him not to leave.

Standing up shakily he wandered through the doorway she’d gone into and come out of wet as if from a bath. In the alcove he saw what must have been her primitive conservator, a stone chest tucked into a cool corner. Around it hung dried herbs and flowers, jars filled with powders and other organics sitting in a pantry shelf. There were organized piles of animal - he hoped - bones, horns, teeth, and hooves, some in varying states of being carved or shaped. A box, delicately adorned, held different knives and tools, their handles made from antler or wood. The room had been bigger than he’d imagined; there was enough room for a workbench, strange devices that appeared to be for making yarn and cloth, more boxes of materials sat about strategically. There were racks of wood, chunks of precious stones, sheets and dowels of metals both rare and common. It was as if he’d stepped back in time into a craftsman’s workshop.

Walking further in he noticed a small refresher, though it looked to be about the oldest one he’d ever seen. Standing in front of the sink he pulled at one of the levers, startled to hear the water pouring from it even though it was to be expected. Convinced everything actually worked he used the much-needed refresher to relieve himself and look at his face in the mirror. There was a bruise on one of his cheeks where he’d been jostled by last night’s landing and his hair was disheveled from sleep, but he looked otherwise healthy. In the room he could hear the faint sound of rushing water and took note that the refresher did not actually have the bath he’d expected; she had called it a 'spring.’ Determined to remove the layer of sweat from his skin he walked further in search of the running water.

It was breath taking. Hux could see why the mysterious woman had chosen to settle here.

Through an opening just wide enough for the water to pour out came a waterfall filling a blue pool that over-flowed into a small stream diverted in the direction he’d come. Next to it was another pool, steam curling from its surface. Hammered into the wall were pegs for towels to hang and a line with limp laundry. Hux slowly peeled off his uniform, leaving them in a folded pile with his boots on a bench near the cave’s entrance. Cautiously he stepped into the pool of the waterfall, looking through crystal clear water to see where stones had been place strategically to mimic steps and places to sit. There was a basket sitting on a rock and upon closer inspection Hux found it filled with soaps, pumice stones, handmade lotions, shampoo, a jar with a muddy substance, and other small articles of cleaning products. There was a small note tucked into the weave of the basket; he read in Asha’s curling hand 'feel free to use anything.’

It was rare that he indulged in the pleasure of a long bath, only taking the opportunity to soak in warm water if he’d had a particularly stressful day. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d used scented soap, non-standard issue hair products, or even taken the time to scrub the dead skin from his body and use moisturizing creams. Hux admitted to himself that he did in fact have a particularly stressful time yesterday and if there was the possibility that he might never make it back to the Finalizer, he was going to use this beautiful space to have one last hedonistic day of self-care.

He began scrubbing away at his pale skin with pumice stones and soft cloths dipped in exfoliating creams. The fragrant soap lathered his body, giving him the feeling of being renewed, careful to get every inch with a scrub brush he’d found beside the pool, letting himself moan softly at the feeling of the bristles on his aching back. With the shampoo he removed whatever gel was left in his hair, scratching out the loose skin of his scalp. He rubbed in an accompanying conditioner and rummaged through the rest of the basket as he waited for it to sink into his copper hair. Everything had smelled of subtle flowers or the sweetness of fruit. He laid out the mud jar to be used next along with it a manicure kit. Rinsing his hair he used the reflection in the pool to apply the mud mask to his face, wiped off his hands and began work on his nails, the preciseness of the activity appealing to his perfectionist streak. All said and done he decided to see if the hot spring was suitable for use.

Before even dipping his toes in it was obvious that the homeowner used the spring with the hot rocks stacked into a curved bench. Nearby was even an empty stone cup, forgotten about since the last time she’d soaked in the warm water. Slipping into the water he closed his eyes and groaned as every muscle in his body began to relax and unknot. He tried his hardest to not fall asleep in the heat, but the thoughts he’d used to distract himself turned from the status of the Finalizer to the image of Asha standing in the doorway of his shuttle to the faint memory of her carrying his barely conscious body to bed. He was unsure of whether or not he had imagined her pressing a gentle kiss to his hair, but unfortunately his minds wandered into the imagination of her naked body going through the routine he’d used, her blue eyes heavy but intensely locked on where he stood in his mind’s eye. He felt himself harden, lost in his thoughts, lightly brushing it with his long fingers before snapping to reality and standing up out of the water. Willing himself to soften he went to retrieve a towel and began to dry himself. Satisfied after chastising himself for such thoughts he used the lotion from the basket over any piece of skin he could touch and tucked everything back together.

He stared at his pile of clothes, considering if he could bear to wear the dirty uniform after making himself so deeply clean. He sighed in resignation, deciding he would at least give some effort to seeing if there were clean clothes that would fit. The stone was cold on his bare feet as he padded back to the room he’d spent most of his time. If memory serves him correctly there was a wooden trunk sitting at the foot of the bed, the likeliest place he thought for spare clothes. Naked he strode into the room without a second thought, but he was brought from the depths of his mind when he heard the clatter of something fall to the floor. Looking up he saw Asha frozen by the front door, her hands empty and a pile of wood scattered by her feet. Their eyes locked across the room and before he could back out into the alcove he saw her face turn red, her eyes screw shut and she turned to face the wall away from him. Still muffled slightly from the day before but doing better he heard her shaky voice shout an apology.

He considered running back to throw on his uniform, but he saw where some clothing had been laid out on the trunk by his feet. Without second thought he grabbed them and ran into the refresher he’d previously used. From the other room he heard the shuffle of her feet as she gathered up her dropped bundle of wood and the steps grew louder as she walked into the alcove. He heard her speak harshly to herself in a language he didn’t understand, followed by a soft choked sob. She spoke no more but there came the rhythmic sound of a blade through wood. Hux was surprised that the clothes, shirt and trousers made from a soft black material, actually fit and were even a little loose on his slight frame. He’d always been skinny as a child and it hadn’t changed when he’d grown into a man, but what he lost in muscle he gained in height to intimidate his subordinates. Thinking back he did admit that the woman in the other room was around his height and was strong enough to have lifted him with one arm across the river and his limp body into bed. It was also possible that they belonged to some man, the bed had been large enough for two people, so it was a reasonable assumption that someone could share it with her some nights. The thought of her lying beside someone else made his heart sink into his stomach, a thought he tried to push to the back of his mind. What she did with other men was none of his business.

Walking out of the refresher he saw where she’d sat hunched over her workbench, a lamp sitting on it to illuminate the room. Her motions seemed almost frustrated, turning something over in her hands repeatedly as if she couldn’t decide what to do with it. Without noticing him she put the object down and swooped out into the main room. Hux followed silently on the soles of his bare feet, stopping beyond the shadow of the doorway. Asha was sitting on the carefully made bed, the two coats hung back up on the pegs by the door and underneath them her muddied boots. In her hand was one of the small blades he’d seen in her tool chest, and for a moment he held his breath, the possibility of it being used against him coming to the forefront of his mind. Instead he watched as she brought the sharp curve of it to a fingertip of her non-dominant hand, causing a bead of blood to come to the surface. She let it trickle down her fingers before she brought it to the back of her other hand, smearing it into a strange symbol and staring as it dried to her skin. Pulling a cloth from her jacket pocket she held it to staunch the bleeding of her finger and wiped away the bloody ritual.

Hux had forgotten to breathe and when he finally exhaled it came out loud and ragged. She looked up, startled, and quickly turned her face away. He stepped further into the room, moving to sit on the bench he’d occupied the night before, but his guardian got to her feet and slipped past him back into the alcove. He heard the plink of glass bottles, a hiss that escaped her lips, and the sticky sound of tape being unraveled. When she returned the fingertip was wrapped in a white cloth, barely visible as she curled it into a fist. She refused to look at him, instead she came to the fire, stoking in another log. Wordlessly she sat in front of the cauldron and removed its lid, using the ladle to scoop and eat whatever he had left from that morning. The only sound to be heard was the crackling of the fire, Hux not daring to speak up and Asha staring blankly into the flames.

Eventually she did get up from the floor and turned to stare at her bed. Cocking her head to the side, Hux worried that she’d noticed if the plasteel trunk had been moved. His stomach became a black pit and his hands trembled as she walked towards it and he almost screamed when she tapped it with her sock-covered foot. Desperately, as she leaned down to pull it out herself, he looked around for anything he could use to defend himself. The cauldron was certainly heavy enough to prove deadly but was ultimately unwieldy. There were blades but in the other room along with any object he could use as a bludgeon. As he heard the click of the lock he caught sight of the object she’d squirreled from the mattress before leaving last night; it looked suspiciously similar to the lightsaber hilts he’d seen strapped to the belts of Kylo and his Knights of Ren. Asha was peering into the open chest but, before Hux could snatch up the lightsaber he wasn’t even sure how to use, she picked up one of the ancient tomes and turned around with a small smile on her lips.

“This one is my favorite,” she said gently, taking a step forward and sitting down on the table in front of him. She flipped to a page she seemed to know the exact location of and spun the book around for him to read. He looked down into the face of a remarkably handsome man, almost reminiscent of his own father when he was young. The eyes were the only thing colored in but they were a piercing blue, as if they were really staring out at him from the page. He recognized this one as the oldest of the records and he had his attention focused on this particular portrait. “The man who inspired it all, a right bastard and the truest of evils if there was ever one.”

Hux looked up into her face, curiosity on his face. He hadn’t particularly paid much attention to the dossiers himself, instead only looking to see how far back the chain of assassins were documented. She caught his expression and continued in her rhythmic speech.

“He fucked about on this planet, it’s gone now, collapsed into a star as it went supernova. This planet was rumored to have the secret of eternal youth and health, a tale as old as time in almost any civilization. Well, knowing the story of this scumbag you’d think it was true. It could easily have been a man feeding into some old legend as best he could, but there were centuries worth of proof stating a man of his exact description had lived. Paintings, personal journals, court records, medical histories, photos, primitive holos. There was a room filled with journals, all in consistent handwriting experts matched to the laws the man pictured wrote. It’s not unheard of people to copy someone’s handwriting but there were thousands of them, as thick as the palm of a man’s neck, and years of analysis showed no inconsistencies in the stories or style of author. In them were detailed major astrological and planetary events that scientists didn’t even believe could happen until they modeled them. The people of the planet, desperately trying to find a way to debunk the existence of a man who hadn’t aged in five hundred years, eventually gave up because they thought there was no way so many coincidences could happen to one man.

The rumors and legends of this man were all awful, shit of the worst caliber. He was a powerful politician and lawmaker, so people had chalked it up for years that the stories were only spread as a way for enemies of the state to defame him. The government, police, his family, friends, constituents all said there was no way a man with such a track record could get away with everything and still be in the public eye. There were of course the standard accusations such as having rivals murdered, whoring around, embezzlement, things that pretty much any man of the people had to deal with. But it didn’t end there, the conspiracy ran deep.

This man ran a slave ring growing and processing drugs that he secretly distributed directly to the lower class through intermediate gangs and criminal organizations, all to keep them unconcerned and stupid as wage slaves. The gangs had no idea that they all worked for him and treated each other like rivals, killing and maiming each other and innocents in the street, hanging them from bridges and state houses all across the country. Through his connections with the police and the suppliers of the gangs’ weaponry he’d organize raids where the gang members had no chance with disabled guns. He was praised as a hero of the people and scared lower class and no one knew he was responsible for them in the first place.

He organized terrorist groups from countries with rough ties with his country, helping them place suicide bombs in major cities and coached them into producing videos for their radical demands. He was the head of the committee that always ordered the military to steamroll the hideouts of these terrorists groups, him knowing exactly where they hid. What the media didn’t show was that the military was also sweeping through the unallied countryside, killing any man old enough to hold a gun, raping both old and very young girls, and cutting off the left leg of the small boys, sometimes murdering babies in their cribs. But this man was praised for ridding the world of the terrorist regime.

It just goes on and on. He had countless people murdered, he supposedly smothered the newborn son of a rival lawyer in his crib while the man slept down the hall. The man was so distraught he threw himself from the capitol building and his poor wife drowned herself and her surviving children on their family estate. He raped his way across the country, supposedly having a child in every town and city. Young women would be brought to his home where they’d disappear for years only to turn up, completely desiccated, spreading the rumor that he was drinking their blood and that was how he kept his youth. Other politicians, in their memoirs after his death, claimed he ran a secret dark society where they sacrificed women and washed their bodies with the blood, their skulls boiled and made into a great throne underneath his estate.

His wife was perfectly devoid of life, she was a walking corpse, at parties she was described as a possessed doll. They had countless children but every time they had a girl it would mysteriously die before being taken home despite being born perfectly healthy. Every son they had was found guilty of numerous rapes and murders, constantly found fighting and threatening people in bars and getting kicked out of every law school in the world. The fucker would use his power to keep them out of prison, eventually carting them off to countries with loose penalties and no extradition to their home country.

This entire time he made moves for global conquest, building a standing private army distributed across weakened states. The men were nameless, no one knew where they came from. It was rumored he found the secret of clone technology or was stealing them from countries where they had no power to fight back. They were apparently so well trained they never disobeyed an order and if they did they were executed on the spot. He took several impoverished countries and performed many ethnic cleansings before he was declared an enemy to humanity. He hid away in a secured fortress deep in a mountain range before one day his armies stopped receiving orders and the entrance opened with the planetary defense force parked right outside. They swooped in but every soldier and servant in the place was dead and in the grand throne room they found the devil himself trussed up like a slaughtered animal being drained and the walls were painted with his confession in his own blood.

And that was the first kill of Claudius, our founder. He was considered too evil to be a Jedi but he refused to follow the ways of the Sith, they were everything he hated. The Order of Flowers did not seek power and only killed those who were truly evil. Order members found straying from the path were condemned, cast out, and sometimes executed. Members held positions of power only long enough to sniff out and execute targets, careful to not use their power to gain political prestige.“

She paused, her voice starting to fry as the constant speech dried her throat. Hux stared at her in wonder, trying to decipher how much of the story was really true. There were many legends in the galaxy, the legend of the Jedi and Sith a long-standing one he was personally intimate with. The story of the first assassin’s kill had filled Asha with excitement, the gruesome story of the target’s misdeeds fueling a righteous fire. Some of the details sounded familiar and the gears of his mind slowed down as they put together the pieces. She did know who he was, what he’d done for the First Order, and she was going to drag his corpse across the Finalizer, draping his insides from the ceiling of the bridge.

Hux stood up like he’d been filled with sudden energy, his mind screaming at him to run the absolute fuck away, even if it meant running right into the arms of slavers or a bloodthirsty bear. But his body wasn’t ready, instead all of the blood rushed from his head and he felt his body become cold and limp. He watched the room spin as he fell, expecting the last thing he felt to be the hard floor cracking open his skull - maybe her plan all along - but instead he felt a pair of strong arms grab him on his way down.

He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but when he came back around he was aware that he was drenched in a cold sweat, his head felt like it belonged to someone else, and his face was pressed into warm fabric. He felt something wet drip onto his face, heard the panicked sound of sobbing from where his head lay, and smelled something that made him think of what heaven must smell like. For a minute, with his eyes closed, he imagined he had actually died, gone to heaven and was being cradled in the arms of an angel, but he remembered all the things he was responsible for and knew that the place waiting for him after death was filled with demons, pain, and fire. There would be the screams of tortured souls, not the tears of a mournful angel and the air would smell like sulfur instead of a perfect floral scent clinging to clean skin.

Hux felt something press into his hair and what shallow breath he could muster inhaled the familiar smell he’d woken up to with his face buried in the pillow. He realized that it was the faint floral smell of a flower he didn’t know, having not been around many flowers in his time aboard star destroyers and space stations. As his mind began to lose its fuzz he heard a woman’s voice whispering a prayer in a foreign tongue, repeating it as if their life depended on it. He was wrapped in a tight embrace, a hand was in his hair supporting his head on a limp neck and another gripping fabric of his sleeve. The hand left his arm and whatever was pressed into his hair pulled away, leaving space for a hand to smooth back his hair and rub a thumb along his cheek. Slowly he gained the strength to open his eyes and as the fog faded he looked into Asha’s face. Tears rolled from her eyes clenched tightly shut, face red from sobbing, and he watched her lips whisper the prayer, interrupted in spurts for her to sob. A tear fell from her nose, shaken loose from the power of her uncontrolled shaking, and landed on his cheek. On his chest he caught sight of a dried blue flower peeking from a cloth handkerchief. He remembered seeing it in one of the books he’d especially studied, his muddled mind returning to the word Asha as the image of a flower swirled around, and another tear splattering like rain against his dream brought him to clarity; it was an Asha’s Tear. He wondered briefly which came first, Asha or the flower. He seemed to recall the word flower being important but couldn’t quite remember why.


	56. No One Can Hear You Scream (My Name)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux's shuttle makes an unfortunate error, landing him in a deep-space observation station with its one inhabitant. [Hux/OC]  
>  **NSFW, Warnings: Rape/Noncon**  
>  Originally Posted: 01-30-2018  
> WC: 4188, Unrevised

Hux woke up on the bed of a tiny med-bay, feeling groggy and a little sore. There was no one in sight but he could hear something through the thick plasteel door. He sat up slowly, the pain radiating down his body. The wobbling in his legs upon first getting up made him thankful to be alone. When he was steady he grabbed his coat hanging on a peg and walked out of the automatic door.

It apparently led to the main room, judging by the massive computer console down to his left and the door to a docking bay on his right. His eyes fell on a figure and source of the noise he’d heard. In front of an open panel, the wires and conduits pulled out, was a woman dancing to some music he’d never heard while working. She was obviously very energetic about her work and the motions distracted him for too long before he noticed she was in her underclothes, as unrevealing as they were. She looked sweaty from where he stood; he blamed lying down for an undetermined amount of time for the tightness in his uniform trousers. The woman turned to rummage through her toolbox when their eyes locked and the color drained from her face, mouth falling open into a small ‘o’.

Hux was surprised to see her not try to cover herself, instead she kicked the stereo quiet before walking down the room to the console. “Sorry, forgot someone was actually here for once in ten years.”

As she slipped on a black silk bathrobe hanging off the back of her chair she beckoned him towards her. Hux could see, when he was closer, the data scrolling scrolling across the screen. There were models being constantly refined, audio being recorded, and several video feeds. The woman pointed to one in particular and he recognized it as the digital signature for a secured First Order data packet. “Your ship’s distress system was mangled beyond repair, so I had to do its job for it, the lazy bastard. The satellite array up top isn’t exactly fast so judging by how far away the coordinates you’ve got stored are, it could be some time before it gets there. Been going for a few hours now so we should see your better equipment ping back in the next few.”

“Kepler, requesting progress on that relay repair.” A voice fuzzed from a comm on the control board. The woman pushed the button. “It’s getting there, maker, things take time you know; I’m not a damn droid like you all joke about. It’s not exactly essential, this is the last one in the chain.”

“Oh, we all know now you’re not a droid. That reminds me, how’s the handsome visitor who’s unfortunate enough to get hit by an asteroid near you?”

“I’ll haunt you to your grave, jackass.” With angered finality she killed the connection, bringing her hand to rub her forehead. “I work with morons,” she muttered under her breath.

“And what do you and these morons do, exactly?” She looked up at him in surprise and then glanced around for something. Giving up her seat she switched to a low footstool hidden under the console, gesturing for him to take her old seat. He did so with silent thanks as he didn’t know how much longer he could bear the throbbing in his legs.

“Kepler is a deep-space observation and research facility - well, not really a facility, the only things you haven’t seen are my quarters and the kitchen, it’s not really that big a place. Copernicus is a planetary observatory. Gemini is, uh… I don’t really remember what they do, it’s something medical… or about plants? Hyperion is another one but I hardly hear from them, they have better things to do I guess.” She looked rather sheepish compared to the confident movements from before and the way she’d told off her colleague. Something happened on one of her screens that caught her attention, and she got up to lean over him and use the console, an intent look on her eye. He saw that one of her video feeds were picking up something, but instead of looking at whatever she was so interested in his eyes were gliding over her body a mere foot from him, the silky fabric of her bathrobe clinging to her. She sat back down, not seeming to have noticed his staring.

“Your colleague said I was struck by an asteroid? Is this what really happened?”

“Well, struck by is kinda not the right words… From the data my relay picked up and your shuttle’s flight data, your hyper speed drive had you going through the nearby asteroid field and, due to a fatal error, you came out of speed and… winged one of them. I’m impressed it held up enough for you to survive. The others… I’m sorry to say they didn’t have as much luck.” She went to reach out her hand to his knee in comfort, but thought better of it and tried to play it off as her resting her arm on the console. The position was uncomfortable and she brought it back down. It was just as well, Hux didn’t have a particular connection to the men on his shuttle that day.

“And how does a woman sitting in a deep-space observatory find herself capable of accessing encrypted military data and compiling data packets to be sent to said military’s installations?” There was no way to phrase the question other than an accusation. She seemed nonplussed, against Hux’s expectations.

“A combination of a lot of free time and ten years of having to identify huge washes of data that I pick up. A fair bit of it has been First Order communiques, I admit, but, whether you believe me or not, once I identify them I scrub them from the relay databank and it would be as if they were never seen. Of course, I get bored and sometimes I read them… sometimes there’s some data in there that has explained something else I’ve picked up, but most of the things are pretty innocuous. Same thing for all the Resistance data. Both your men and theirs would come by and demand to see my data stores. I’d tell them there’s no point, but if they wanted to waste their time they were free to it.” The woman laughed and rubbed a scar on her cheek that he hadn’t noticed.

“It’ll get me in trouble, but one time one of these lieutenants came in, furious as a nest of hornets, demanding to see the "real” data bank. I said ‘Look man, do you see how tiny this place is? Where do you think I’m hiding petabytes of space data, in the back of my sock drawer?’ I was pissed because he’d ordered his men to pull out a literal ton of conduits and wire; I didn’t have hot water for a month. Well, the comment earned me this and now whenever I see that fucker’s call sign on a communique I scramble the fuck out of it before sending it on its way. They did search my sock drawer, just to be as equally petty, and I still maintain that he took an old holo of me and an old friend from home. We were in our underwear sitting on an old X-wing that had just been floating in orbit around this big moon. She’s gone and so is it, so… he fucked with the wrong woman with too much time on her hands.

"Where’s home for you, Sir, if you don’t mind me asking a question?” Hux was thrown out of his reverie; he’d been debating asking for the lieutenant’s name for him to be punished. He wasn’t usually one to talk about himself intimately, even in the relatively impersonal thing as where he was from, but he figured that if she was able encrypt and send along a First Order distress call by hand then she probably could find a way to look up his records. “Hux. I was born on Arkanis, I was there for a bit before spending the rest of my life on space stations and ships of the fleet.”

“I was born on a space station. Kinda wish I’d been a kid on a planet, I’ve never been on one. What’s it like?”

“You’ve never been on a planet?” Hux tried to think up something about his short time on Arkanis, the memory too saturated with the hate of his father. “My father raised prize nerfs, I used to go out and feed them salt when my father wasn’t around to stop me. Other than that the only difference is the scenery and the air. No hum of the space station, just the sounds of the insects or the city.”

“Sounds peaceful. Do you have a lot of memories of your father?” The moment she’d asked the question he could see she regretted it. “I’m sorry, that was too much. I just never knew my parents, I like hearing about other people’s time with theirs.”

“I do, but they’re not pleasant,” he’d said unconsciously. He mentally kicked himself but the sharp pain of it was smoothed when he felt her hand on his knee. Hux stared at it in shock before it darted away, a small 'sorry’ coming from his savior. “How does one find themselves alone in an observatory for ten years?”

“My home ship was a science vessel, a strange thing to be, I know. When I turned sixteen they asked me what I wanted to do and I said I wanted to go out on one of the observations. My friend - the only family I had - went to fight for the Resistance and had just been killed. I spent a year here with the person who’d been here before me and I’ve been alone ever since. I’m the longest continuous tenant of any of the stations.” She’d placed her hands on the console as she was distracted mid-sentence by something on another monitor. He reached out his own hand and placed it over one of hers. She looked up at him, but he didn’t remove it. “I’m sorry.”

She smiled sadly. “It’s okay, it was her choice, like how it’s my choice to stay here.” They shared a long look before a series of beeps broke her attention. She stood up, staring at one of the monitors, moving between him and the console to get to the section of controls she needed. The woman had a habit of forgetting herself, but Hux blamed the effects of the collision with the asteroid for his uncharacteristic staring. When she went to sit down on her stool he instead pulled her into his lap, his face pressed into the silk over her back. “Um… that was your fleet. They responded to the distress request and they’re sending a shuttle. It’ll take a few hours…”

Hux’s heart sank unexpectedly. He let his hands glide over her body as he breathed in the scent of her bathrobe, feeling her squirm under her touch. “Sir… what are you doing?”

“You called me handsome, did you not? And I’m sure you’ve been lonely on this station. You don’t seem like your opinion of your colleagues is high enough to be… close to them.” He slowly trailed one of his hands up the soft skin of her exposed thigh, the other held her stomach to push her into his chest.

“Maybe the scanner didn’t pick up a concussion or something. We should run it again.” She tried to stand up but he clamped her in place; she whimpered. He gingerly undid the knot of her bathrobe and began slipping it from her body as he spoke. “How about you tell me your name instead?”

She seemed frustrated by the question, or possibly just flustered as his fingers played at the band of elastic below her breasts. “Sibyl, but I’ve been Kepler for ten years, seems wrong to call myself anything else.”

“It does seem like you’re just another part of this ship.” His wandering hands made her gasp in surprise, one being tugged at by her as it grazed between her legs. “I’m going to have to confiscate that secret database you’ve been hiding from us. Intel tells me it’s somewhere in your room.”

With that he pushed her off onto her shaking legs, turning her around with a strong grip to face him as he stood. He took a step forward and she stepped back, only to knock into the console. His face was mere inches from hers as her lips moved. “And what if I said no, sir?”

“I would be very disappointed, there’s valuable data that could help me bring an end to the Resistance.” Somewhere in Hux’s mind he told himself off for mentioning his enemy, the people her friend died fighting with against his.

“That’s not what I meant.” She said sternly. “Though I supposed I’m here alone, you could take whatever you want.”

Hux balked. “I wouldn’t…”

“Because if I can mess with a lieutenant for taking a holo then what would I do to you for taking my dignity?” Hux backed off, letting her straighten to her full height.

“Because it would be wrong and I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” Their lips crashed together, her hands on his face. When they parted, he was confused. “W-why…?”

“Everyone has hurt me one way or another,” she whispered against his neck. She led him towards her quarters. “I think I saw that big file labeled 'Resistance plans and codes’ under my pillow.”

The walk was a flurry of kisses and clothes falling to the ground. Hux tipped her onto the bed and crawled above her. Passionately they kissed for what felt like eternity, but eternity was not long enough. Their hands explored each other’s skin and they gasped as they found each other. He thought that her hands would feel rough against them from her years of maintenance work but the fingers were soft as they gently stroked him. Hux couldn’t remember the last time that anyone but him had touched his bare skin and he imagined that it had been a long time for the keeper of the lonely station. She felt impossibly tight as he entered her, her voice rising in pleasure and hand running through his short copper hair.

The General was surprised that the contact hadn’t finished him in a short amount of time, his body not used to the carnal activity, but her cries of 'please’ and 'more’ were motivators as much as threats against his endurance. Her lips had been tracing lines along his collarbone and neck, the intimate ritual he returned in kind, eliciting heavy moans. He felt her body buck against him and watched as her face twisted with the surge of her upcoming crash. Leaning up he made room for his thumb to come between them and rub tiny circles into her, making her tighten around him. It was hard for him to keep his pace as she reached up her hands to rub the back of his neck and his bare chest, but his body eventually gave in to the need to quicken the pace of his thrusting when he heard and felt her come to her climax. The hairs on the back of his neck pulled tight and the shudder of her body pushed him over the edge and he fell down to moan into her neck as he pulled himself from her in time to spill over her abdomen. Carefully he gave the tender skin a kiss before rolling onto his back.

From the bed side she grabbed some tissues and began cleaning herself up, offering him some as she worked. Relatively free of liquids he pulled her into his side, her head on his chest and a hand on his flat stomach. “I like the way your heart sounds.”

“And how does it sound?”

“Strong but tired, like it just woke up.” He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet fruity scent of her shampoo.

“Never did find that Resistance Intel.” He said jokingly. He didn’t remember what it sounded like when he laughed.

“That’s ok, it’s all taun taun recipes.”

“Are you serious?”

“No, it’s the same stuff I pick up from your side. I’ve practically watched your assaults planned out and make it a game to see if I can guess who wins.” She kissed at his skin and changed the subject. “This was much nicer than I thought it’d be.”

“Were you thinking about it while you waited for me to wake up?”

“I was, but I’d always been under the impression that it would hurt more.”

“You mean that-” before he could finish his thought, there was a loud beep from the small console in her room. She jumped up in alarm and rushed to it, typing away furiously. A voice came over the comm, “Kepler station, this is recon team gamma, requesting permission to come aboard.”

The tone of the man didn’t sound particularly like the well-manicured training of First Order soldiers. “Recon team gamma, this is Kepler, what is your business here?”

“Kepler, we’re investigating a shuttle crash in the area.” Her face paled. She looked between him and the comm.

“Recon, I’m afraid you’ve caught me indisposed. Give me a few minutes to get ready for your embark.” The man acknowledged and she killed the connection. A second passed before she screamed, startling him. She ran to gather up all of the clothing he’d left on the floor and shoved it into his arms. He only had enough time to put on his underwear before she opened a panel in the wall, revealing a hollowed out interior. She shoved him inside with his clothing and gave him a deep kiss. “Stay quiet.”

Into darkness he was plunged but he still felt exposed, his heart racing. As if through the conduits he could eventually hear voices.

“Hello sir, what can I do for you?” She did a remarkable job of acting ambivalent.

“Are you responsible for salvaging that shuttle attached to your hull?“

"Yes, I was looking for survivors and to salvage some tech for the station.”

“Your other station told us you mentioned a survivor, where is he now?” Hux swallowed but his throat was dry.

“Well sir they came and got him already.”

“But they left their shuttle?”

“Yes, it’s too badly damaged to be worth repairing. It did collide with an asteroid. They took something from it and then left.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if we poked around in it?”

“Be my guest, it’s just scrap now.”

Some moments passed in silence, presumably while the Resistance team scoured his shuttle. After a while he heard footsteps approaching.

“Kepler, you’ve been at this station a long time.”

“Ten years, roughly.”

“Must be lonely, you’re here alone are you not?”

He heard her laugh. “Just me and the station. Of course I talk to the other teams and the supply shuttle. Other than that it’s me and the sound of the universe.”

“So you don’t get a lot of male attention, hm?”

“Sir…”

“You can tell me. Did the first order bastard do anything to you?”

“Sir, please…”

“Don’t protect them.”

“Sir, I’ve played no sides in this war. I’m here because I like being alone. I am accommodating to both you and them.”

“So you’re telling me you let him have what he wanted?”

“Sir, he wanted nothing, he was badly injured.”

“I’m not badly injured. You don’t take sides, so are you going to refuse accommodating me?” Hux heard something thump the wall in front of him, the space where the bed was. Blood coursed through his ears. There was the sound of fabric tearing.

“Please, stop! You’re hurting me!” The clatter became rhythmic.

“No one will believe you. You’re a First Order sympathizer. A crazy lady living in a space station at the edge of the galaxy.” He heard her sob and the sound of brutish grunting. Hux was about to break the panel away from the wall when the distant call of ‘all clear, sir!’ gave an end to the noise. He felt hot tears of anger roll down his face.

“Have a good day, miss.” And with that the sound of boots fell away into the hallway. He heard her beginning to sob loudly again. Not caring if they were still around he pushed free of the hidden compartment to see her sitting on the edge of the bed, face in her hands, her clothing in tatters on the floor. He could see the light bruising of handprints on her hip and shoulder. When he touched her back softly she flinched away, screaming 'no’ at the top of her lungs. Hux backed away quickly like he’d been bit by a snake. Helpless he watched her cry until there was nothing left.

“Everyone hurts me eventually,” she said, her voice hollow and distant. Gingerly he approached her again.

“I won’t, I promise.” When she didn’t respond he sat on the bed next to her, carefully putting a hand back on her arm. She curled into him, her face buried in his neck. He wished he’d brought over his coat so he could wrap it around her. They sat like this for a while, him whispering assurances in her ear and rubbing her back as she hid in his body.

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely. He moved away just enough to allow him to put a finger below her chin and tilt her face up to him for a gentle kiss.

“Anything for you.”

Their silent embrace was eventually broken by the sound of her console coming to life again. Hot rage filled him again only to be replaced with a sinking feeling in his stomach when he looked over and recognized the First Order emblem pop up on the screen. Untangling herself from him she went over, movement stiff, and pressed the comm button. “Kepler station, prepare to be boarded.”

She didn’t have time to respond before the comm link broke in classic Order fashion. Robotically she found a new set of clothes and he turned his attention to putting his uniform back on. He’d just wrapped the coat around his shoulders and the room was cleared when he heard the sound of the docking bay door open. Frozen in place, he stared at his lover and watched her smile briefly before her mask was frosted with the disinterest of someone having lived in solitude for a decade. In the doorway appeared a lieutenant and an armed storm trooper.

“Sir, we arrived as quickly as we got your shuttle’s distress call.” He was surprised to hear the man not refer to the message as coming from the station; maybe she was good enough to fool his intelligence team. The man looked between the two. “Your shuttle shows signs of being dismantled, are we to reclaim-”

“The General has agreed to give me some of the salvage in return for his rescue.” Hux remained impassive to the quick wit of his savior. From the sounds of it nothing of true importance was salvageable anyways. “I will just give you back the data module and then feel free to leave at your convenience.”

The lieutenant was incensed. “What are you doing with a data module?”

“I was using it to keep apprised of the situation on the Finalizer in my absence, lieutenant, and I suggest you keep your questions to yourself.” He held out his hand towards the door and Sibyl took the opportunity to walk past the flustered lieutenant. At the large console he watched as she hurriedly punched some things in and the hardware popped up from the table. Grabbing it gingerly she turned to hand it to him, his gloved hand brushing her bare fingers as he took it, their eyes intently looking at each other. If the lieutenant and trooper thought anything of it they were silenced with his glare when he turned on his heel. She stood, hands straight at her sides, as she watched him walk away and through the docking bay door.

Hux would later look through the data module and be elated when it started with not the standard First Order screen but a small message:

'I will always be here.  
-Kepler  
P.S. - I still don’t like to take sides, but I think this only fair.’

Attached was a file containing an inventory of the Resistance forces as of the week prior, straight from the rebel main base. Hux smiled to himself in the privacy of his quarters. Using the best of his computer skills, the General used all of his free time, precious as it was, to set up a secured relay using the Finalizer’s system. With a prayer to the Stars he sent a short data packet before the beginning of his shift: 'misplaced my holo, do you know where it is?’


	57. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren/Aneirin fluff with no dialogue, originally posted 04-02-2018  
> SFW, Unrevised

It had been a long month of trudging around feral worlds with Kylo Ren and the Doctor was beginning to feel her deep well of energy and persistence waning. The commander had dragged her away from half of a dinner, claiming he required her skills without actually explaining what for no matter how many times she asked. She’d entertained the idea that he’d chosen her because she was the smallest of the physicians aboard the Finalizer and therefore she was the most suitable to be cramped up behind the pilot’s seat of his TIE Silencer. There were plenty of reasonable answers like how she was considered the best on the ship, or that she was the only one he let touch him without complaint, or even possibly that she possessed the particular trait of mental immunity to the influences of the Force. However, the Sith seemed just as likely to pick based on something as petty as ‘least likely to complain’ so she went with that.

She never did find out what he was looking for out there among the stars, on worlds no human would populate. A good number of times he told her to stay in the ship and she was allowed to sit in the pilot’s seat to stretch out while she read a book. Once she’d been so tired from all the travel that the warmth of where he’d vacated the spot had lulled her to sleep until he came back and shook her awake. What she hadn’t realized was that, underneath his helmet, he’d stood and watched her deep breaths for several minutes before deciding to wake her up. Sometimes he said she could wander around but only within sight of the ship, so she took the opportunity to observe alien plant-life and managed to take some samples for study.

Her expertise became useful when he managed to get surrounded by a pack of vicious great cats and came away with quite a few wounds. In the light of a fire he took off his helmet and stripped until his chest was bare so that she could clean and stitch the long cuts. They’d passed the time in silence and she ate a small meal while he meditated. Warm and exhausted she fell asleep on the hard packed earth and when she woke up the next morning to the sun glaring through the trees, she found her great coat laid out like a blanket on top of her and her bag stuffed under her head for a pillow. She didn’t remember getting these things but figured she must’ve done it in an almost-asleep state and forgotten. The Commander said nothing about it and they were on their way.

After a week Kylo gave up keeping his helmet on in her presence, she was constantly around, so this meant she got to see his face a lot while they flew in the Silencer and on the rare occasions he ate. She sometimes found herself focusing on his reflection in the transparasteel viewport when she was letting her mind wander and she swore she saw him smirk to himself as if he’d caught her doing something she shouldn’t have. The moment didn’t last long when an alarm sounded and the knight became hyper-focused on the incoming Resistance fighters they must’ve attracted from a hidden base. Aneirin had of course been in ships when they were under attack but not one so... small, that felt like one hit would mean death. It also had occurred to her that they were very far from any ‘home’ and so very alone. She didn’t realize how good of a pilot Ren was until now, having never seen him work, and it was probably that skill which got them out with only taking one non-fatal shot. When it had hit, she’d grabbed onto the back of his seat, not realizing until he’d spoken up that her hands were clutching his shoulders and her face was hiding in his hair. With a soft apology she let go and sat stock-still until they’d managed to lose what few fighters were left so they could land. She sat on a nearby rock with a blaster in her lap while he repaired what he could of the damage. His cloak wrapped around her shoulders brought her attention to the fact that she’d been shaking and crying and when she looked up at him he had to quickly look away. He didn’t make fun of her, like she expected him to, and never brought it up.

She didn’t know if he ever found what he was looking for but they were on their way home. The trip was silent save for the hum of the ship and the rare sound of their breathing or shifting. Her mind was going through the list of things she’d have to do when she got back and she mentally prepared herself for the tirade General Hux was almost guaranteed to throw for the Commander whisking away his Chief Medical Officer on what seemed like a whim. On most occasions she didn’t mind the man, they seemed to hold a respectable if not pleasant rapport when Kylo Ren wasn’t involved. In her reverie she fell asleep tiny space warmed by their two bodies.

When Kylo brought the Silencer into the hangar, he’d expected to hear the doctor behind him move around to get ready to leave, but it was silent even when he himself was getting ready. With a curious turn of his head he saw her red-faced with sleep still curled up to fit perfectly. He briefly considered leaving her, but the ship needed to be worked on. He also thought about waking her up but he knew that if he was contemplating actual sleep then she must be dead to the world around. So as carefully has he could, he picked up her small form and carried her through the ship in his arms, daring at anyone to stare. With his override code he unlocked the door to her quarters, sweeping into the place that probably had enough regulations infractions that Hux would burst a blood vessel. For whatever reason, Ren felt as if he couldn’t leave her the way she was and somehow without waking her, he removed her boots and socks, coat and gloves, tucking her into the bed with the blankets pulled up to her chin.


	58. Comes As Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Armitage Hux has had his eye on Roseworth Glen for some time and good fortune smiles upon him when its master dies without anyone to inherit the great estate. There are, however, less fortunate things still haunting its halls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaguely Victorian Era, Happy Ending, SFW (Minus warnings), 4900 words.  
>  **Warnings:** Mentioned/Implied abuse of a child, Kidnapping/Containment

Roseworth Glen. Armitage Hux always had his eye on this property; it was peaceful, beautiful, and when the winter came it saw a unique amount of snow for the region. He always enjoyed that crisp white calm, the crunch of the ice under his boots, the way it sparkled in the sun. The smell of fire always pleased him, so he loved the excuse to have them going all day long. It was currently spring so he had no such excuse, but he was no less excited to finally have the manor. 

He’d once visited the estate as a young boy, for a party its owner had held. The man, older than his own father and just as mean-looking, was very influential and very wealthy from his trade in exotic oddities and rare artworks. Brendol Hux had been hoping to gain the man’s favor, for all the good that would do, and Armitage had been dragged along to fill the false family atmosphere. The ginger boy was shooed away and left to find his own entertainment in the confusingly large building. Even as a man nearing his thirties he still remembered coming across a quiet room he thought was empty. 

Instead, he found a little girl, maybe around his age, sitting by the light of a window. She had big curls of gold and wore a red and green dress, her black shoes shined to an almost blinding sheen. In her lap was a pad of paper and by her was a box full of little sticks; she was drawing a vase sitting on a table in front of her. “That is marvelous.”

“Shining stars! You frightened me!” The curls around her head bounced when she jumped out of fright, sending her supplies scattering across the floor. Armitage helped her collect them back into her box and sat with her on the floor. 

“I apologize, it was not my intention to startle you.” 

“It is quite fine, I was not paying attention.” She pulled on her skirts. 

“Is there a problem?” 

“I do not like the way I appear.” A charcoal-smudged finger played with a curl. 

“If it is not too forward, I believe you look fetching.” The girl shrugged, eyes downcast. Uncomfortable. 

“Thank you for your kind words.” Armitage picked up her paper pad and flicked through some of the images. 

“These are incredible!” He settled on a portrait of a man smiling gently; the concept was foreign to him, but he found that it made his stomach warm. 

“I am not sure of that.” He distinctly remembered an image of the man embracing a woman, the pair of them in a moment of unbridled joy. 

“You have a natural talent.” 

“I could… make one of you, if you wished.” Armitage practically lit up; almost no one paid attention to him, he wasn’t worth it, and now someone wished to stare at him in order to produce a portrait. He settled into an overstuffed chair and she sat across from him. 

They sat that way for quite some time until a large figure filled the doorframe, the man from her sketchbook. Armitage quaked, thinking this Herculean image would choke the life out of the poor boy for inappropriately interacting with his supposed daughter, but the man smiled instead, taking few strides to cross the room and kiss the top of the girl’s curls. “This is where you ran off to, Ani. Made a new friend, have you?”

“Armitage Hux, sir.” The redhead straightened his spine from the unconscious cowering he’d done, receiving a nod of acknowledgment. 

“I will not hold it against you.” Her father helped pick up her things and held her tiny hand in his massive one as she slid off the chair. “I apologize, but we must be going.”

“Good night, Armitage.” He watched the curls and skirts bounce as she walked away with her father, her feet uncertain. She’d looked back, her eyes a startling sad blue. 

The young man stood in that room now, looking out of the window, his mind imagining the wraiths of the party guests, translucent and white fluttering in their tattered eveningwear, wandering the gardens as they had been that day. Faintly he could hear the chattering of conversation, the quiet lilt of a piano, and the tinkling of glasses filled with champagne and liquors. Without his new companion, the little boy isolated himself in the room until his own father, irate and imposing, found him to drag back to their home. Armitage knew his mayfly friend was no longer there, but nonetheless, he wished to not leave, to hide in a wall to escape his father. Now he could move about the place at will; he was home, no one could tell him where to go. 

The place had come as is; its owner died suddenly and the staff had practically fled, not a great sign but it didn’t thwart its would-be new owner. The estate was handled by a coterie of solicitors and bankers, men unwilling to scrabble and bicker over the worth of many of the decorations. Some had undoubtedly been stolen by the previous servants as a means of recouping their lost wages, making fair any believed unpaid labor or helping themselves until they found their next household. A few most likely had tried to make their way to America, hoping for a better life. With what was left Armitage took his time assessing each piece, deciding which fitted with his personal vision for Roseworth and which were mere investment. It was a good excuse to ignore his father, a man he felt he could never be rid of, but he couldn’t ignore the ghostly chill of a memory he should’ve forgotten a long time ago. 

He’d never felt safe in his own home, he always expected to see his father round a corner. Brendol cared little for his son and made it very clear Armitage lived at the man’s mercy. Every sound was a potential ‘lesson’ waiting to happen. His father would slam things indiscriminately, out of anger or just because he knew it scared people in the house. It failed to get a reaction out of Armitage’s stepmother, though she feared the man’s hand just as much as he did. He remembered how she’d once grabbed his face, tilted his head back so severely that it hurt his neck, and he’d whimpered like the pathetic child he was. Her nails dug into his skin and her face was lined with dark anger, but she let go. “I believe you have enough to fear without me looming over you, bastard.” 

Armitage hated loud noises. His father would drag him to hunts, events that made the young man sure he would be shot and left for dead in the forest. Instead, his father made sure to fire his rifle as often as possible, ridiculing the son for being startled. He still refused to go hunting, no matter who asked or how often. 

He detested mirrors, couldn’t stand to look at himself. Most people probably thought him vain in some regards, he did try to appear at his best, but it was just a façade. 

Hated the dark. Anything could be hiding there. Staring at him. Threatening. 

Early one morning he was deciding on the arrangement of his study when a steady thumping pervaded the space. For all his investigating, even focusing the attention of his staff, he could not find the cause. It eventually died down and he came to the conclusion that it was most likely a trick of acoustics or possibly an animal, though the beat of the sound had been consistent. Unnerved he continued his day, an uncomfortable prickling at the back of his neck. Every now and then he would hear a sound: the rattle of something metallic and heavy, scraping and clawing, a voice faintly calling. The staff did not know what he was talking about and it began to seep into his confidence that he was becoming unsound. 

He was able to distract himself for the most part until he was trying to sleep some days later and the sound came back, though weak and irregular. At first, he was seized with a fear that his father had come to his estate to molest his life and psyche. After some calming breaths and a drink of whisky, he cursed himself for acting like a scared child. Flustered and irritated, Armitage marched into the upper parts of the mansion, to the dusty attics that they hadn’t felt a need to address yet. 

Upon reaching the top of the narrow stairs he found a thin corridor with three doors. An oil lamp in hand he opened the door, which he would later realize was an awful idea to do unarmed to protect himself against whatever was behind it, but he found the room only full of more oddities and valuables, some of which gave him discomforting feelings to see them only by flamelight. He moved on to the second room and found much of the same, though he heard a sound like a whisper. At the end of the hallway was the last door, he found it fastened with a heavy iron lock. Holding his ear to the wood he didn’t hear the sound, so he slammed his fist against it, hoping to rouse whatever he assumed was behind it. He put his ear once more against the wood.

“Pa…pa?”

Armitage was thankful that at least his fear-addled mind was able to keep a tight grip on his lamp instead of dropping it, the burning oil no doubt turning Roseworth Glen, its precious rarities, and whatever was behind that door to ash.

* * *

In the cold light of morning, after a fortifying drink of whisky, and with the support of his strongest staff, Armitage had the lock removed and the door opened. 

From the outside, it stood to reason that this part of the mansion would be lit by windows on either side, but the group stepped into a room plunged in darkness. While his steward fetched and lit a lamp his groom found another sitting by the door, its oil burned to nothing. In the black void, they heard the metallic clink of a chain rustling, fabric slowly running over the wood floor. Large men all, they still quivered with supernatural fear. 

“I’m sorry… papa…” the weak voice, feminine though deep from rasp, startled the group into taking a step back. The steward with the lamp could not return too quickly. “I will… be good…” 

Though disturbed by the situation, Armitage’s heart still ached. He recalled moments when he was young, when he received the sting of the back of his father’s large hands, and he would repeat similar words. Pleading for clemency from a parent for doing wrong, even if no wrong was done. A child had little choice in wanting to be loved and was quick to believe they were as worthless as their creators said.

A light appeared from behind them and Armitage was the one to take the lamp, emboldened enough to step further into the room ahead of his escorts. The warm orange glow of the flame washed over piles of things that in the faint light he couldn’t rightly identify. A face came out of the darkness, his heart seized, but he realized that it was flat. Framed. A painting. Then he came upon the source of his terror and annoyance. 

Lying on the floor was a girl, small and crumpled. Her hair was fair and messy, unkempt, her exposed arms thin and bony. The dress she wore was dirty, ripped in some places and covered in dust in others, by the smell it was possibly molding. It would have been girlish and young with its lace, bouncy if it wasn’t weighed by grime. He thought it strange that her shoes would shine in the light but it was a cuff on her ankle, attached to a heavy chain that he assumed was bolted to the edifice beyond the glow of his lamp. 

“I will… be good…” 

Armitage, against better judgment and his usual character, extended his unoccupied hand to touch her hair, brushing it back from her face. Gaunt and presumably pale, dark circles under her eyes made the girl appear skeletal and on the verge of the afterlife. “I am sure, but I am not your father.” 

“... mister?” 

“Hux. I am the new owner of Roseworth. Your father has passed.” _Though apparently good riddance._

He stayed with her as the staff worked. They removed the shades and planks that both blocked out the sunlight and thwarted any attempt to open the windows to escape. Armitage inspected the large attic room now awash in bright light, which hurt the poor girl’s eyes so he relinquished his jacket to shield her. The room had the appearance of an artist’s studio, collections of supplies, easels and props filling the space. In one corner was a pile of rags that was most likely a makeshift bed, otherwise, there was no indication that a proper person occupied the place. 

“What is your name, little miss?” He wasn’t in the habit of talking to children, they reminded him too much of his young self. Cuffed into submission, this one more so than most. 

“Elizabeth, mister.” 

“A nice name. Do you know how long you have been here?” The girl shook her head. “How old are you?”

“I do not know, mister.” _It stands to reason she would not if she was unaware of the passage of time._

“How old were you when your father put you up here?” 

The girl groaned and attempted to clutch her head but she was too weak to move. “My head hurts, mister.” 

The cuff was removed, allowing the girl to be lifted and taken into the manor proper. Armitage had had enough of the place and left with his staff, going to his study to prepare a communication with his lawyer, though he did not know where to start. How did one explain that they found a girl locked in their new attic? I will look like a madman, surely.

His head maid saw to Elizabeth’s immediate care; she was bathed and her matted hair, a nest of twisted curls, needed to be shorn off, seeing as attempting to brush it caused her to cry and whimper. Her skin was covered in filth-caused sores and the scars that crisscrossed in discolored lines and splotches told a story of abuse not unlike Armitage’s own. The only clothes they could find, borrowed from one of the female staff, were still too large but they were much better than the rag she’d been wearing. Slowly they fed her water and a thin broth, and when she could eat no more they found her a bed to lie down. 

No one could offer any suitable solution to the frankly insane situation. Any attempt to rouse some recollection of the past produced either headaches or nothing. The only person she’d known was dead, the former staff long gone or swearing ignorance. Eventually, the local doctor arrived to assess the poor girl’s health which was obviously poor and needed quite a bit of recovery. What Roseworth Glen’s new owner did not expect, however, was that this ‘poor girl’ was estimated to be almost as old himself. “At the very least,” the doctor had started while packing away the instruments of his trade, “she is not an age appropriate for the manner in which she was clothed.”

Armitage stood in the doorway to the spare room, arms crossed over his shallow chest and a contemplative look upon his face. He watched as the duvet rose and fell as Elizabeth breathed in her sleep. Typically the right answers came easily to him and he knew how to navigate every twist and turn of social decorum, at least so he thought. Now he was struggling with how to properly interact with this young woman who was in his new home long before him. Did he treat her as if this were her home and he the guest? Did her delicate condition and situation necessitate a new set of rules?

“Papa?” Despite the nursing her voice was still weak. Armitage decided there was no known way to speak to someone like Elizabeth and so he crossed the threshold to sit in the edge of the bed. He felt sorry for her, in many ways, but currently it was the state of her hair. All the beautiful women he knew had long hair, either cascading in youthful waves or piled high in elegant styles. She had the appearance of a sheep quickly sheared.

“No, it is me.” He watched her slowly start to recognize him before digging the heel of her palm into a temple, wincing. “Do you remember what I said in the attic? That your father has passed?”

“I remember,” she said quietly. Her blue eyes stared at something far away. “I only… feel as if…”

Armitage tried to give her time to find the right words but it seemed a hopeless endeavor in that moment. “Are you still unsure of how old you are?”

“I know that… I am not that young. I used to… watch the seasons change.” He could see that it was difficult for her to recall these things but he felt it important that she remember. “But I do not recall how many cycles, I apologize.”

“That is quite alright, you are doing your best,” his soothed with just the slightest change in his voice. “How old would you say you are? If you could think of all the things that have happened to you.”

“I feel as if… my memory stops at just the edge of something. It is too scared to go further in…” Elizabeth ran a cleaned nail along the seam of her duvet. “I remember that I bled once and Papa was angry. He hurt me and said awful things. Said I was a harlot and he’d let the stable boys have me if it happened again.”

Armitage felt his stomach fall out and his heart catch fire in his throat. His delicate hands gripped the blanket beneath him and he regretted the snarl undoubtedly on his face when she cringed away. “I should not have mentioned that, it’s not polite to talk about such matters.”

“It concerns your health and wellbeing, things that have quite obviously been abused and neglected. You cannot get better if you feel you cannot express yourself.” It was an uncomfortable subject but the fact remained that the whole experience would be one uncomfortable subject after another. There were always whispers of wealthy men doing whatever they wished to their children but it was considered impolite gossiping, the attempts at slandering a man’s good name. Now here was ample proof of it, you couldn’t explain this away with hysteria or lies. “Are you able to recall anything more?”

“He always brought me a Christmas present. They were… these ornaments. Made of crystal. When the light came through the windows they would sparkle.” 

He would have to remember to investigate the attic again. “Then he boarded the windows up?” 

Elizabeth appeared somewhere between embarrassed and hurt. Armitage gently placed a gloved hand on one of hers. “I stopped being afraid of heights. I wanted to go outside. He caught me trying to pry the window open. Then I was… trying to open the door, so he chained me to the wall.”

When the tears started to tumble down her reddened cheeks he gave her hand a squeeze in rhythm to how his chest was squeezing his heart. “No one is going to lock you up again. I promise. We will take you into the sunshine.”

It took her some time to regain the power of speech. “You… will?”

“Yes, we just need to get you a little stronger.” Armitage grew bold and stroked what remained of her hair. She only flinched away slightly. “I am sad to see you look this way.”

“It is… I was never one for long hair. Papa wanted me to have long hair.” Elizabeth felt some of the short strands like artist’s brushes. “Mister, I apologize, what did you say your name was again?”

“Hux.”

“I will not hold it against you,” she replied almost immediately. Her face contracted with her scrunched eyes and her fingers dug into her temples again. “I don’t know why I said that, I apologize, Mr. Hux.”

“It is quite fine, do not trouble yourself.” Now it was his turn to feel as if he just couldn’t quite remember something. “I will have someone bring you more to eat so you may gather your strength. Do not strain yourself.”

“Thank you very much, sir.”

He had intended to go to the attic to investigate but one of his solicitor’s employees called on him. After the standard pleasantries they sat down in Armitage’s office. “Well, what have we discovered?”

“As far as all of the records we could gain access to in the time that has passed since we began the investigation, that is, all the records in London and this county, there is nothing that indicates the late Rollinsford had either married or fathered a child. No children were born to anyone in his employ, either, though it is difficult when we do not know how old this girl is.” The man, who was somehow even thinner and lankier than Armitage, took a moment to clear his throat. “We checked the orphanages in London, as well, with no luck. Currently we are attempting to have the police cooperate and sort through their files for missing children reports, but we know they’re stubborn and unreliable. For all we know, she could have been some urchin pulled off the street, or not even English.”

“Rollinsford,” Armitage practically spit the name, it was poison to him now, more poisonous than his own last name, “kept a girl without a single hint as to how long or where she came from? I hate to think of how many poor children have suffered the same fate.”

“There could have been others, if the only reason we discovered this one is because of his death.” The would-be solicitor appeared self-satisfied with this piece of insight. His face fell and he looked away in shame at the expression on his client’s face. “We will continue our efforts. As it stands, there is at least no precedent that would hinder your possession of the estate.”

“I would think that someone in her position would not wish to claim the estate. Though inform your employer that if no family is found, I am inclined take on minor expenses to avoid the poor woman being shuttered up in some asylum unless it is strictly necessary.” Armitage should have known better than to offer up such an altruistic notion so suddenly, judging by how it was received, but it seemed prudent to voice the idea sooner rather than later. “You may go.”

Armitage didn’t remember the walk but he found himself again in the attic. Without something more pressing to attend to, he took his time going through the storage rooms. There were some oddities that were most likely authentic given their apparent age, but the strangest thing was several paintings that were all completely identical. He recognized at least one of them as a Rembrandt that his father had purchased from Rollinsford only a few years ago.

Fakes.

Standing in the less savory of the three rooms in the attic, it was all too obvious where the fakes had come from. There was an unfinished Rubens on an easel, empty canvases in piles just waiting for the next request. The floor was littered with papers covered in charcoal and pastels, some more detailed and sane than others. Armitage spent too much time staring at the heavy iron chain and cuff anchored to the wall, marks in the wood indicating where its captor had tried prying it away. 

With the boards taken from the windows, the afternoon sun made sparkles on the walls and floors. Hanging above the makeshift rag bed was a collection of crystal ornaments just as Elizabeth had described. Armitage touched each one as he counted. 

20.

His father had terrorized him for 28 years but the thought of being locked in a dark room, punished into perpetual childhood, never seeing the sun for 20 years had his stomach churning and rolling like a pit of angry adders not even Saint Patrick could banish. He had to turn away or else his imagination might make too many dark turns down the hypothetical events that happened here. His shoes found something hidden beneath the rags, sending it skittering across the floor. Leaning down, he delicately picked up the sketchpad. It was very old, the paper so yellowed it was almost brown and the edges were well-worn, some pages threatening to fall out. Carefully he flipped through them all.

As if it had burned him or spiders had suddenly erupted from the pages he threw it away from him.

His face had deigned to look out at him, young and smiling softly, dressed for Christmas.

I do not like the way I appear.

Made a new friend, have you?

I will not hold it against you.

Good night, Armitage.

There was a cold damp cloth on his forehead. The back of his head hurt. His eyes could only focus on the glittering of the crystal ornaments. “Annie.”

“What was that, Master Hux?” His head maid was fanning him with her apron. His steward and groom were standing nearby, undoubtedly waiting to see if he needed to be carried out of the attic.

“Her name is Annie. Her father was a very big man with red hair.” Armitage didn’t know if his head hurt more from the fall or the pain of the memory.

“The Readers?” his groom spoke up, emboldened but the waver in his voice indicated his nervousness. “My father worked for them. Their little girl went missing. I was only a little younger than her, I don’t remember much. Her mother went mad and killed herself.”

“Ser Reader lives on Shapinsay, last I heard. Gave his estate to his cousin,” his steward explained. Armitage sat up slowly, his head maid hovering in case he fell backward again. 

“I will draft a letter once my head has cleared.”

“Of course, sir.”

He passed the room where the poor young lady was kept, only looking long enough to determine that she was resting peacefully once again. The young Hux decided that he would be the one to tell her.

“What?” 

Armitage had forgone decorum and propriety, forced himself through layers of breeding and teaching, so that he could remove his gloves to hold her hands. It felt important that the contact be as human as possible. Normally his hands were cold, but compared to hers they were practically on fire. “Your name is Annie Reader. Your father is Ser Reader. I met you when we were children. It was in this house, you drew a portrait of me. That was twenty years ago.”

He felt her hand start to quiver, hey blue eyes couldn’t look directly at him. Her lips writhed, trying to formulate words that her mind just couldn’t form yet. Then the tears started and Armitage felt he had no choice but to pull her into his arms, letting her bury her face in his shoulder. He made gentle shushing noises as he patted her back, offering soothing words whenever a complaint about her head managed to bubble up. Eventually she tired herself out and he helped her settle back into bed.

While they waited for her father to be contacted, Aneirin was practically inseparable from his side. Like a lost puppy she followed him around the house, needed to be in the same room. Armitage’s heart could barely take it when she asked questions he couldn’t answer.

Ser Reader came and took his daughter in a moving reunion. Armitage was not the only one breaking social expectations as he too was crushed in a thankful embrace. Aneirin gave him a parting kiss on the cheek, soft and innocent. She promised she would get better, whatever that meant, and would write him. He would have thought she was proposing courtship had she much of a concept of it at the time, but instead he knew she wanted to remain friends with the man who had saved her.

Armitage was old for a bachelor but he held out hope. He didn’t even know why; he just was waiting for his new friend to catch up. There would always be a bit of a struggle, scars on the psyche that they didn’t quite know how to fix, but she proved herself capable of taking care of herself with a little help. He was prepared to give it.

Roseworth Glen went up in flames. No one was hurt. Nothing of real value was lost. Armitage had stood and watched it burn with a dark satisfaction.

While the new manor was being built, Armitage stayed with the Readers in their guesthouse on the isle of Shapinsay in Scotland. The two were wrens sharing a branch, cuddled up together for warmth.


	59. Submission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Mature  
> Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual Language/References, Mentioned/Implied Sexual Assault  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Ewan Crath (OMC) (As Ewan Hux-Pritchard), Dopheld Mitaka (Minor Role)  
> Pairing: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character  
> Tags: AU: Canon Divergence, AU: Female Social Dominance  
> Words: 10284  
> Published: 2018-12-18, Revised: 2019-04-23  
> Summary: The galaxy lives under the thumbs and wills of women, Armitage Hux claws his way to the top only to fall dangerously in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.

Life was hard for someone like Armitage Hux. Sure, he was a general of the First Order now, but it wasn’t easy by far. One didn’t get into that position as a man without digging in their heels and really proving their worth, working themselves to the bone until all that was left was a walking corpse made only to do a single-minded job. It would have been easier if he had been more desirable, something one of the superior female officers would want to keep around. It had in some ways worked to his advantage; if he’d been too desirable then he would have been labelled a slutty bitch trying to move his way up by making people think they had a chance with him and if he’d been any less attractive then he would have never gotten promotions because he would be invisible. Armitage was in a reasonable middle ground where maybe he felt he didn’t have a chance at a meaningful relationship but at least no one was trying to fuck him over.

He could never figure out what it was about women that made them so good at whatever they put their minds to. Compared to men, if you were talking about averages, women were not as physically strong, but it never seemed to bother them. They were fairly vulnerable when pregnant and many chose to take the time to spend with their new children. Their hormone cycles did affect their moods but somehow nothing was truly dramatic when one took a step back. Despite everything that could be a disadvantage, women could do it all and they knew it.

Brendol Hux hadn’t liked that women ruled the galaxy, he didn’t see the positives. To him, they were _weak, fickle, and useless._ He’d used the same words to describe his own son, who might as well have been a daughter for how much the man detested the poor boy. To take out his frustrations with his wife, who ruled the roost and might have hated Armitage even more had she not been so busy with her own endeavours, Brendol has found the meekest of the women in the house staff. 

From a young age, the redhead swore that he’d never be like his father, even if it meant he died alone. For all that his fellow men whispered about the matriarchy and the tyranny of women, Armitage would never make someone else feel powerless. Which was a little ironic given his chosen career, but if he thought about it long enough it wasn’t really chosen. Brendol had forced the young man into the Academy for a fast track to being an officer in the First Order, to ‘make a man out of’ him and ‘prove men are superior.’ Judging by the subversive talk floating around, these were supposed to be words of encouragement, but young Armitage would have liked to pick his own path, even if it was something as male-centric as being a doctor or an engineer. Maybe it was important that they try to make the sexes equal- never superior to one another like his father wanted- but he didn’t see why he had to do something he wasn’t particularly interested in to prove a point. Why couldn’t people just do what they wanted and not have to worry about what it meant?

He was sitting at his desk trying to drink his afternoon tea while all this was going on in his head. A new chief medical officer was coming aboard tomorrow. A woman doctor. Obviously, she’d gone with what she wanted and didn’t care that she was a rarity in the field. It had made him nervous because she, too, was a general.

Women tended not to start relationships with men above their rank, it was seen as shameful and debasing. A woman whose male partner could give her orders was a deviant and many times labelled a whore. So as Armitage rose in the ranks the number of women who could be interested him dwindled to practically nothing. He did sometimes find a rare fancy in other men but the air of desperation and the tendency to move quickly in those relationships hadn’t appealed to him. The General kept to himself and focused on his work. _Maybe I should get a pet,_ he would think to himself in a moment of loneliness, _or maybe a nice potted plant._

The arrival of the new doctor reminded him of his first and only time. He was a cadet, just a first year, freshly a legal adult. An older cadet had taken an interest in him. Young Armitage had thought he was finally of some worth, someone wanted him, so he did everything she wanted, her little plaything. As he began to realize she was just using him, was actively mocking and devaluing him, he was a fly already in the spider’s web. She had laughed afterwards, leaving him cold and crying in the supply closet where the deed was done. He was just barely able to pull his collar over the bruises on his neck. Thoughts raced through his mind, that he could have fought back, should have known better, never should have appeared interested. Now the smallest inclination of interest in him was met with calculated side-steps. He wouldn’t let himself be hurt like that again.

He wasn’t going to let this new general hurt him. No matter how lonely he got, no matter what little wild hair his mind got that _this one would be different._

“Doctor General Pritchard, welcome aboard _Finalizer._ ” General Hux had become an expert in looking people over without seeming interested. She was shorter than he expected and he was surprised she didn’t appear as full of herself as the other women did, but the blonde did radiate an authority. The charming smile, the good posture, the gentle but elocuted voice… Armitage was shaking her hand before he could even decide if he wanted to.

“Aneirin, please! We’re both generals here, no need for stuffy titles and standing on ceremony.” She quickly became enamoured with his greatcoat. “Ooh! I love this, it looks quite good on you! What’s it made of?”

 _Oh, Stars, please no._ “Gabberwool.”

“Never heard of it. May I have a feel?” She moved to remove one of her gloves.

“I would rather you not.”

“Of course.” Much to his amazement the woman tugged her glove back into place and simply looked the garment over again. “You wouldn’t feel strange if I got myself one, would you? The lab coat isn’t very warm unless I’m running around.”

Mentally Armitage’s mouth opened and closed several times as he attempted to come to grips with the situation he was in. “I can have one ordered for you.”

“I would really appreciate that,” Aneirin cooed, even her voice could smile. She wagged her finger at him with one corner of her mouth quirked. “When I’m settled in, you’re going to join me for dinner.”

“I don’t believe that I-”

“No no no, I can tell you don’t eat enough. I bet this ship doesn’t get the good stuff, you’re too busy to cook a meal, I get it.” Gently she tried to pat his arm but stopped herself before starting to drift away from him. “I’ll let you know when, sweetheart. I’ll get a home-cooked meal in you eventually, just you wait.”

Armitage knew better than to think that _maybe this one would be different._

He knew what they got like when they were denied. 

_‘You thought I wanted you, you ugly bastard?’_

_‘You think you’re too good for me?’_

So when the invitation came he felt he had no choice. He knew better now. He was older, stronger… She would be easy to push away, so small. Maybe she would tank his career… Armitage found he wouldn’t care if it came to that. He wouldn’t be a doormat anymore. So he went to her quarters to give the benefit of the doubt. For all he knew, she was more interested in Captain Phasma, one of those pillow princesses that wanted to be tossed around and serviced, the ones in the holovids were always so cheerful. Probably because they didn’t have to worry about anything other than being pretty.

Doctor General Pritchard wasn’t all that pretty if he was being honest and she probably had to worry about a lot. Getting side-eye for being in a ‘man’s job’ and, from her files, he knew she either really did her work or was very good at getting by on someone else’s. She’d discovered a new bacta formula, even credited some men as assistants. They hadn’t made any comments when he contacted them to ask if they were really just assistants and not that their work had been stolen. Men stuck together, one knew either someone was really afraid or was telling the truth.

“Armitage!” His mental self breathed a sigh of relief to see her still in her formal uniform with only the collar undone. She stepped back and swept an arm to welcome him into her quarters. There were a few boxes but he could see that she’d made some effort in getting comfortable. It was rare to see someone make an attempt at making their space a home and not just the place they slept. “I am so glad you could find the time.”

“It would be rude to reject such an offer.” And possibly the death of me. He stepped into the space. “This is possibly the best smell I’ve had the pleasure of finding on this ship. Or anywhere, really.”

“Aren’t you charming? Thank you very much, my mother would be proud to hear that.” Aneirin giggled and led him into the kitchen area where there was already a table and chairs waiting for them. “Would you like something to drink? I don’t normally care for it but I thought maybe you might so I unpacked my bar first.”

“That is generous but I will just have water or tea if you have it, thank you.” He watched as she poured them both glasses of cold water. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of a woman who just accepted his wishes like this. She handed him his glass which he again politely thanked her for. “I am not sure there are many officers who cook their own meals.”

“Oh, I don’t always, time and tiredness and all.” At the table, they sat across from each other. “Reminds me of home. And it tastes a hell of a lot better.”

Armitage took a bite. “It is quite an experience of the tongue.”

Aneirin laughed, genuinely, happily. He wasn’t used to hearing that anymore on ships. “You have a nice way of talking, Red.”

“I have been working on it my whole life,” he said plainly before taking a sip of his water. She laughed again. He didn’t know if he liked it, it felt like a trap, a charming lure made out of quaint humour and seemingly bald-faced honesty. “I presume you are commenting on the colour of my hair.”

“I’m sorry, I know I was staring too. You’re the first one I’ve seen since I left home.” She cut a piece of her food but did not raise it to her mouth yet. “Runs in my family, used to see it in my hair when I got real sunlight. My dad was called The Red Giant. Over 2 meters tall and could fix just about anything.”

It took Armitage a small moment of silence to process this information. One thing he was even less used to than people laughing and being kind was people talking fondly of their family. Sometimes it was as if the First Order was made up of orphans who just somehow managed to become adults. “And your mother?”

“Lovely woman, made wonderful bread, patched people up when it wasn’t worth going to the hospital.” She drew a thumb along the lip of her now empty glass. “Your family?”

“Father was commandant of the Arkanis Academy.”

“I remember him. He was, ah…” her expression grew nervous.

“A cunt of a man?” Her face relaxed. “I hold no love for him, I won’t be offended by what you have to say.”

“He used to look at me really strangely.” Aneirin shifted uncomfortably and she got up from her seat, taking their glasses to refill them.

“How so.”

“Like he was going to cut my head off and stick it on his dick, walk around laughing about it.” He heard her curse softly as she almost lost her grip on a glass. “You don’t really meet… bad people. On Corsaira. I guess it’s the parenting. The mindfulness.”

“That must have been difficult.” He accepted the new glass of water with eye contact as thanks, but the quaint bubbly doctor was gone.

“It _was_ all difficult. I almost went home. I could never understand any of it.” There was plenty of food left on her plate but she appeared to have lost her appetite.

“A stranger in a strange land.”

“I’m sorry, I really intended this to be a pleasant conversation.” Aneirin started eating her meal again, he followed suit to be polite.

“I am sure one doesn’t get this far in life without some gruesome stories.”

“It’s a shame. I was raised to believe we should treat people how we want to be treated.” 

“Considering what I knew about my father, I doubt he wanted to have his head cut off and his neck fucked.” This earned a startled snort. “So I should just assume that however you treat me is how you wish me to treat you?”

“Have I done anything to offend you?”

“No, you have been very genuine. Almost confusingly so.”

“The rest of the galaxy wouldn’t know kindness if it handed them fifty credits.” 

Armitage had to remind himself that _this one isn’t any different._

The men only reported satisfaction with the new CMO. No flaunting of power like he expected. Until he received a notification that he was due for his yearly physical. _You can reschedule but not forever._

The small exam room was suffocating. Having the small blonde in it with him wasn’t helping. They’d gotten through most of it before his nerves got to him. “Can we get this over with?”

“If you’d be more comfortable with a male doctor I can go find one.” It was the first time he’d seen her wearing glasses. “I thought you would be more comfortable with someone your rank, I have a captain-”

“I would just like to be done.” She hadn’t tried anything. _Yet._

“Just a few last things.” Aneirin unhooked the stethoscope from around her neck and held it between her hands. “Damn thing gets cold on these ships.”

“I appreciate the thought.” He still flinched when she pressed the disc against his chest.

“Strong heart, I like that in a man.” She gave her lighthearted laugh before moving on to his lungs. “Don’t like that, however.”

Armitage could practically feel his blood pressure rise. “What?”

“I can tell you haven’t been doing the pneumotherapy treatments as you should be for smoking like a chimney.” She unplugged the stethoscope from her ears. “It ages you too, ya know. Maybe when this war is over you can quit.”

“I haven’t had time.”

“More like you have white coat syndrome. Would’ve worn my new coat if I had known.” She wrote something down on her datapad before digging through a supply drawer. “On your feet, soldier, time for the unfortunate part. I don’t know why someone hasn’t found a better way to check for pro- my stars, are you okay?”

“‘M fine.”

“You’re pale.”

“I’m always pale.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Armitage was distinctly aware that she was just far enough way to touch him at a moment’s notice. “We don’t have to do the rest of the exam. We’ll just do a blood test, even though you’re not due for one.”

“Yes.”

“Do you…” Aneirin chewed on her next words. “You can talk to me.”

“I don’t need to talk.”

“I’m not judging you for anything. I would never hurt you. It doesn’t have to go on record.” She took a step forward, extending her hand.

“I said I do _not_ need to _talk_!” He slammed his palms on the exam table beneath him and it was a strange experience watching the doctor jump back like a frightened lothcat. They stared at each other, not knowing how to proceed.

“I will order the blood test.” There was no room for argument, she simply turned towards the door and quickly slipped out. 

Once his blood stopped rushing through his ears, Armitage let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He regained enough presence of mind to put on his uniform, though he left off his jacket, coat, and gloves, they’d just ask him to remove it all to take blood anyway. The male assistant didn’t say anything other than acknowledgements. He didn’t see the CMO as he left the medbay. The rest of the day he kept expecting some notification on his datapad that said ‘suspension: medical leave,’ the feeling of an axe hanging over his neck. It never came.

General Hux was sitting in his chambers when the sound of a delivery droid chiming the door lock caught his attention. From his perch on the sofa, he let it in with a tap from his datapad and rested his half-smoked cigarette in an ashtray. The little droid rolled over to him and unfurled its casing to reveal a platter. It was tastefully arranged with a variety of… he tasted one, it was sweet. There was a note on a piece of flimsiplast. No one he knew onboard ordered flimsi, there was no use for it.

‘I apologize for making you uncomfortable, General,’ it opened in looping ink. It took him a little concentration to read something that wasn’t standard Aurebesh type. ‘I only wish to help, but I understand when help is not wanted. I hope that we can remain successful colleagues and possibly friends, though I know that is not common in places like these. Yours, Aneirin’

_This is just a trick. Everything is a damn trick._

Armitage took the platter so the droid could leave. He tried another of the sweet things and decided to make some tea. 

_But maybe,_ he thought as he watched the steam curl off his steeping tea, _this is how kind people treat one another._

He couldn’t cook or bake, didn’t know where to start, so he settled for bringing the platter back to her quarters when he was done. Aneirin stared in shock before grinning, taking the silver disc from him carefully. “Did you enjoy them?”

“I’m afraid I’m not overly fond of sweets,” he started and faltered when she glanced down in disappointment, “but I ate them all. Thank you.”

“I find that people who are not used to sugar find they don’t quite like it. Or they suddenly binge it and it’s like a drug. Well, it is a drug, in a brain chemistry sense.” She laughed and moved the platter from hand to hand. “I chatter when I’m nervous.”

“May I come in?” The question jarred her but she stood aside anyway. The door slid closed behind him. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“You can ask but I don't know if I’ll answer.” Aneirin looked between the little sitting area she finally got together and the doorway to the kitchen. “Tea?”

“Please.” While she was out of the room Armitage looked around. It was human. Books, though he didn’t really know what he was looking at, plants, pieces of art… Soft rugs on the floors made sounds duller. He spotted a photograph sitting up in a frame on a shelf and by the look of them, it must have been her parents. A happy family. A click of metal on metal signalled that tea had been made and brought to the sitting area, but Armitage didn’t turn around. “You’re fairly small… Did anyone ever take advantage of that?”

“That is _quite_ the personal question.”

“You wanted me to talk.” Armitage turned around on his heel and looked down at her. For once someone else looked like the small animal stuck in headlights. “Let’s talk.”

Aneirin picked up her mug, which was a mistake because he could tell her hand was shaking. She blew on the liquid before taking a fortifying sip. “People have tried.”

Given her meekness and her affirmative answer, the redhead general felt he was comfortable sitting down in one of the chairs, grabbing his mug as he went. He crossed his long legs at the knees. His eyes did not leave her.

“Sometimes other girls would try to start stuff, like in the dorm or the showers. Guys would… just bully me more than anything. One, uh…” She stared into her mug and her voice wavered when she continued. “One guy cornered me in my room. I thought he liked me, he seemed nice. My friends came looking for me and he ran off. Said friends happened to be ex-stormtroopers. When the admins didn’t do anything, they did. No one fucked with me after that.”

“You told the administration?” It was morbid curiosity and a healthy dash of disbelief.

“They thought I was lying, making a big deal out of nothing. The other girls just called me weak. My advisor… he said I should count myself lucky, it should have been worse. I couldn’t believe he used the word ‘should’ instead of ‘could.’ He said men put up with it all the time, now I knew how they felt.” She took a drink to soothe her throat. “It didn’t seem to matter to him that I thought no one should have that happen.”

“It is a sad reality of our world.” Armitage sipped his own tea to give an excuse for his silence. Aneirin didn’t seem to mind that they stopped talking. “I supposed that’s why you have such an open-door policy.”

“My mom had just died, I couldn’t tell my dad or he’d harass me to come home, no one but those stormtroopers cared about me. I felt alone. I don’t want anyone to be in that position if I can do something.”

“I never knew my mother.” Armitage changed the cross of his legs. “My father raped her. To feel powerful.”

“I’m so sorry.” It wasn’t a lie, somehow his heart could tell. “Sometimes I wonder why I bother trying to save people. Humans are filthy animals.”

“An older cadet tied me up in a supply closet. She’d been stringing me along for months. Made me fuck her, degraded me, found something in that forsaken place to shove up my ass. Said I could never tell because no one would believe me and if they did then my father would know how weak I am. I feared my father more than I feared her.”

They both sat in stunned silence. He didn’t know what response he was expecting so he couldn’t really fault her for whatever she did next. A blue linen handkerchief found its way into his hand. “It’s okay. It’s just us. I would never do anything to hurt you or your career.”

Armitage couldn’t believe he was crying. He never cried. The pathetic noises coming out of his body disgusted him. “Please.”

“Armitage?”

“Please do whatever it is you do to make people feel better.” He whined a sob into the balled up handkerchief in his hand. “Please make it stop.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed before pulling him forward on the chair so that she might rest his head against her shoulder. Some deep memory reflex had him wrapping his arms around her and he cried into her uniform jacket as she stroked his hair. “Let it out, Red, let it out. You’re safe here.”

“I… I’m always scared that it’ll happen again,” he managed to get out once he’d found some modicum of calm. “That for all my thinking that I wouldn’t let it happen again… I’d just fuck it up. That I deserve it.”

“You don’t deserve it, Red. No one does. People like that have darkness in their hearts.” Aneirin squeezed his shoulders and rubbed what she could of his back. “I always try to be fair when I write commendations, ya know? To set an example. It didn’t always work out the way I hoped.”

“What happened?”

“I was a captain. This lieutenant kept flirting with me. He was cute, I was momentarily stupid and thought it was real interest, so I let it happen. But he wasn’t as good of a doctor as he thought he was. When the time came for me to do write-ups, I gave my honest answer and he didn’t like it.” Despite reliving the memory the doctor continued with her calming ritual on her co-commander. “He accused me of assaulting him. There are cameras all over stations, he had no case… But for a moment I thought all my hard work was going to be for nothing, all because I was honest. Thankfully the truth was easy to prove.”

“Everyone here has reported they have a high regard for you.” He extricated himself from her grasp and wiped his face off with her handkerchief.

“Well, you and your chiefs have run quite a tight ship, no one here is doing a job they’re not qualified for. I’ve had to do very little ego deflating, thank the stars.” Aneirin took back her handkerchief and found her place on the couch once again. She smiled at him. “I hope this is the start of us being able to do some real good together, Armitage.”

“You are the complete opposite of everything I was dreading.” When she laughed he managed a small chuckle. He finished his tea, thanked her for her time and the cookies, and went back to his quarters. 

One little cry didn’t mean he was suddenly perfect but Armitage had gotten by in life by crushing his emotions into a tiny ball where they would wait there until he died. What mattered most was he had someone on the other team who understood at least a little bit. A powerful person to stand by his side. A friend. He’d never had a friend before.

So he felt betrayed when he saw her talking to Ren of all people. Ren was bigger, stronger, and had the Force on his side, he was obviously a much better match than Armitage. He watched as she laughed and Ren even took off his mask and handed it to her for her to try on. The hulking knight had no right to be so damn charming and cute, touching the small of her back as she tried to walk around in the ill-fitting armour. There was a modulated shriek as she tripped and was caught in a pair of thick arms. The redhaired general couldn’t watch anymore and stomped off.

He denied her dinner invitations, avoided her in the halls. Armitage was afraid he would lose his nerve on the matter until the stars smiled upon him and General Reader was given an off-ship assignment. She had tried talking to him one last time but he managed to be busy at the time. There was a moment when he was alone in his quarters where it had almost overwhelmed him how he might never see her again, that her last memories of him would be negative.

Thankfully she came back in one piece. Turned out she’d been sent to Coruscant to serve as a very special favour to some old politician, there wasn’t much danger. When the door to his quarters chimed his excitement had been dashed as a droid rolled in and not the doctor. Inside was a little box with a flimsi card attached. ‘I thought you could use a new friend.’

Inside the box was a black stone carved into the image of a cat sitting proudly. The whole thing was polished to a mirror sheen and sparkling green gems were embedded where the eyes should be. Armitage looked around for a place to put it and for once he’d really noticed how barren and charmless his rooms were. He chose to put it on a table next to an ashtray where he spent quite a bit of time when he wasn’t on duty.

They didn’t speak but she kept sending him things and he continued to accept them. The understanding had been that if he was uncomfortable then he would tell her to stop but he enjoyed the attention. Aneirin tried new recipes for sweets, sent him pre-prepared meals for when he got off shift and snacks to keep in his desk because he was too busy to march down to the officer’s canteen every time he needed to eat. Once there was even a bottle of some liquor that he couldn’t read the label. Armitage had a little too much to drink one night and in the morning couldn’t remember how the last few hours had gone.

At some point, he’d gotten on his datapad and started sending her messages. They started off fairly cohesive, making apologies and the like for how he behaved. Then became a little less understandable and degraded into what was apparently him trying to send her pictures but his motor functions had been so impaired that he hadn’t gotten anything recognizable. He hoped to every god ever worshipped in the galaxy that he hadn’t been trying to send her pictures of his dick. Eventually, she’d stopped responding after she failed to get him to sober up.

Armitage had to very slowly get off the sofa and staggered his way to the fresher to clean up. He looked like shit, more than normal, and in the cold shower, he groaned as he tried to hold his head together. One clean uniform and one of her breakfast bars later he was finding his way to the bridge. Lieutenant Mitaka was waiting for him looking rather nervous. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, you’re late for your meeting with Doctor Reader. She’s in your office.”

Inwardly Armitage groaned but on the outside, he said, “Thank you, lieutenant. Fetch some tea, please.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Behind his desk, Aneirin was sitting, tapping out something or other on her datapad. There was nowhere else to sit other than the desk itself so Armitage had to stand. “I apologize for my tardiness, General.”

“Given the night you had, I-” Her voice died in her throat when she finally looked up at him.

“Is something the matter?” He took a deep breath. “If anything I said offended you, I will accept a reprimand.”

“Your hair.”

“Excuse me?” Aneirin simply pointed towards the door to his personal fresher and when he stepped inside he almost didn’t recognize his reflection. He’d forgotten to comb his hair. “Kriff.”

“I like it, actually, but obviously you can do whatever you want with it,” she called from his office. He quickly straightened the red mop and returned to find her standing up on the proper side of his desk. He chose to stand as well. “I’m not offended by last night, you were obviously inebriated. I would just suggest against such behaviour in the future, for both the sake of your body and in case you’re needed off-hours.”

“Of course.” Armitage gently tapped the tips of his gloved fingers on his desk. “I have… appreciated everything you’ve done these past few months.”

“You’re quite welcome.” There was a silence. “Should we reschedule this meeting?”

“How about we discuss it over dinner?” 

She seemed stunned. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

“I was. I am no longer.” Finally, General Hux took his seat at his desk. “I am sure you have business to attend to in the medbay.”

“I’ll think of what to make for dinner on my way there.” Aneirin politely nodded and promptly left.

He still couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to comb his hair.

As always, her cooking filled the quarters with a mouth-watering aroma. She had called for the door to open for him and he found her still in the midst of pushing something or other around in a pan. Armitage set down a bottle of Corellian wine on the counter. “I have yet to acquire a taste for that stuff.”

“I suppose that means I will have it all to myself.” His impeccable memory took him to the cupboard where she kept her glassware and he poured his own glass of the wine.

“Liquor is bottom far right. The one with the red label.” He found what she was referring to, a bottle whose label appeared to be a very bearded and battle-scarred man with an eyepatch. Just a sniff felt like its own drink.

It felt good to sit across from her again with food between them. “Thank you, your talents know no bounds.”

“What can I say, I’m an Imperial woman. Of course, I’m better at some things than others.” Armitage was impressed that she drank the strong liquor without coughing, he wasn’t sure if even he could manage it.

“An Imperial woman? I thought your planet stayed out of the Galactic Empire.”

“I’m sorry, I realize how that’s confusing. Corsaira had an Imperial Age. We say someone who knows how to do a wide variety of things is an Imperial person because it was a time when people finally had the opportunity to experience more of life than simply trying to survive.” Aneirin flashed him a smile. “No one really asks me about home.”

“I was born on a starship and Arkanis didn’t feel like a home. You can say I am living vicariously through you.” Armitage poured himself a second glass of wine. They talked at great length about culture and family. She eventually poured herself a second drink as well. Dinner finished, they were sitting across from each other on the sofa only after he’d asked her about each plant in the room. “You’re very different.”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” The wine was empty. He was aware that she’d adjusted herself to be a tad closer to him. “Being different isn’t so bad, I suppose.”

“I enjoy it.” Her knee pressed against his thigh and he found himself not moving it away. “May I kiss you?”

“Let me think about it.” He wished there was more to drink, but he put his empty glass on the coffee table anyway. “I don’t mind if I’m not the only one.”

“I’m sorry? I don’t understand.”

His ears either burned from alcohol or embarrassment, he hoped she assumed the former. “I’d seen you with Ren.”

“Kylo? What about him?”

 _Why are you making me have to say it?_ “You seemed to be… close.”

“We’re only friends. He likes looking at some of my books.” Aneirin gently touched his arm and commanded his attention. “I’m not one of those girls with a bunch of boyfriends. I just want to really know one person.”

“You may kiss me,” he blurted out. Her warm soft hands cupped his face and they both had to lean to make up for their height difference. Their lips moved against one another's, gently pushing and pulling as their breath grew ragged and Armitage made soft whines in the back of his throat.

They found themselves in her bedroom sans most of their clothing. When he’d finally removed his gloves his touch caused her to giggle where cold met warm skin. Blue eyes stared deeply into green. “You can take the lead. We can always stop if you need to.”

Armitage was hesitant to do this again, but she remained true to her word and let him be in control, was patient when he needed a moment. The arrangement of her room allowed him to look out of the viewport at the stars as she rested her head on his sweat-slick chest, comfortable on the verge of sleep. Usually, it was hard for him to fall asleep, his mind too busy and anxious. He thought maybe it was some effect of the plants, maybe her quarters were just a bit warmer than his, but he didn’t have much time to think about it.

* * *

There was a practice that had always felt a little barbaric. When women laid claim to a man, sometimes another woman, they would collar them. The collar would have the woman’s name on it and have a little ring in case she had to drag him around by the neck like a pet. For some, it was one of those kinks to actually use the collar, for most it was just a social practice. Real deviants had the woman wear the collar. Either way, the First Order didn’t strictly forbid the practice, but they did dictate that collars had to be worn underneath the uniform.

He used to think it demeaning. Now that it had been several months and Doctor Reader still hadn’t brought up the subject he was vibrating between worried and offended. Eventually, offence won and he marched into her office. “What’s wrong with me?”

“What?” She’d been working on reports, those cute little reading glasses almost swaying his decision to be angry.

“You won’t claim me as yours. So what is wrong with me? Have you changed your mind about Ren?” He even stamped his foot like a petulant child. “Am I not good enough?”

The confusion on her face gave way to dawning realization. “That’s what those are?”

“Excuse me?”

“There was a group of the nurses showing off these collars and I said ‘oh are we doing costumes?’ They laughed and then no one explained it to me.” She rapped a tattoo on her desk and looked around. “Is there, like… a manual or something?”

“A manual on relationships?” They stared at one another before chuckling together, he’d never noticed that she would snort if she laughed a bit too hard. “I admit, I’ve often wished for one of those.”

“I think a book on every type of relationship possible would be as thick as your arm is long.” Aneirin got up to meet him on the other side of her desk and placed her palms on his chest with a hand on each pectoral muscle. “This has been a simple misunderstanding.”

“I’m sorry for being so childish, I-”

“Please don’t beat yourself up. Don’t apologize for your feelings. You had a right to be upset, it just so happened that it was a case of ignorance and not malice or disrespect.” She slipped her hands under his coat, around his waist, and pulled him into a hug, her ear pressed against his chest above his heart. “Thank you for talking to me about this.”

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt next time.”

“At least you didn’t come in here drunk.” She was squeezed for her joke at his expense.

A few weeks later she invited him over to her quarters. The lightness in his step might as well have been a bright smile. 

The room was decorated with strings of twinkling little lights crossing around the ceiling; if he was lying on his back he would notice they made a seven-pointed star. The sturdier of the plants had glittering strings of colourful beads and polished baubles hanging from wire. A spicy aroma filled the air and she’d managed to get the room a bit warmer. “Okay, so… back home it would be our winter holiday and I thought you could do some celebrating with me.”

“Oh?” Armitage felt a little struck. No one had ever had a holiday on Arkanis or on the ships, he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Then she sat him down on the sofa with a warm drink and brought out a box tied closed with a ribbon.

He held it in his lap and stared at it, unsure of what he was supposed to do with it. “Open it.”

Inside was two collars. They were similar, both made of two white strips with black edging like their rank stripes, but the one he picked up had the Chief Medical Officer insignia as its buckle and on the outer ring, he could read her full name in Aurebesh. “This is for me?”

“I hope it’s comfortable, I tried to get a soft fabric so it wouldn’t irritate your sensitive skin.” Aneirin removed the other collar from the box; its buckle was the Commander’s insignia and when he looked more closely he could read his name. “I thought we could match.”

“Women don’t usually wear collars.” He undid the collar of his uniform and the top clasp so she could place the strip around his neck. She must have taken his uniform measurements to get it just snug enough.

“This should be a relationship of equals.” She fiddled with her own collar after he’d put it on her neck. “Do you like it?”

“I do, very much.” Armitage was beginning to like holidays.

* * *

The unfortunate thing about statistics was that the unwanted results had to happen to someone. There had been arguing and debates as to what to do about it when they’d become a statistic. A lot of crying on both sides. Armitage did have his moments where he realized that maybe he shouldn’t have fought so hard, that the cons had outweighed the pros, that it was completely ridiculous to bring a child into the galaxy at a time like this and that maybe a person who wasn’t so sure about the whole thing might be a good person but not necessarily a good mother. As soon as she told him the news with a solemn and terrified look on her face, all he could think about was how wonderful it would be to finally be a part of a family.

He didn’t like seeing her so uncomfortable and moody. He didn’t like seeing her doubt and dislike herself. He did everything he could to make her feel better, even learned how to cook her favourite meals and how to massage when she started complaining about her back and feet. He’d almost demanded she’d be allowed to go back to her home even though he would miss her deeply and the birth of his child, but he was pushing the limits of anxiety as he thought about what might happen to her on the ship.

If he’d known his very pregnant partner was treating that rebel pilot Armitage would probably have had a stroke. 

“Wow, you’re ready to pop, huh?” Captain Poe Dameron thought himself a charmer but when the doctor started crying uncontrollably he, for once, felt like he had too big of a mouth. “Aw, come on, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I’m a leviathan!” General Reader wailed into her coat sleeve.

“I don’t know what that is?”

“It’s a great big mammal what lives in the ocean, the biggest thing on the planet!”

“Got any pictures?” Somehow this was the right answer because the datapad screen turned from medical into to an encyclopedia in an alphabet he didn’t recognize. “I dunno, it really seems to be giving those guys with the sticks a run for their money.”

“I’m fat and uncomfortable and I have to pee constantly.”

“Hey, hey, you’re doing some important work there. It’ll be over soon.”

“That’s what Red says.” Aneirin sniffled and failed to get comfortable again.

“The Resistance would love to have him when he’s older.”

“I think you mean to say the war will be over by then.” She had said it with a straight face but she got a laugh out of her patient.

“You’re right, ma’am, you caught me being a little disloyal there.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” The patient was out of her hands and she thought it would be the last of strange conversations.

* * *

“Wait, hold on, wait.” Aneirin had been practically confined to quarters at the end of the day, Armitage had ordered it. “You’ve been building a super weapon this whole time?”

“My career has practically been built upon it.” The redhead paced around her sitting room in long anxious strides, digging his nails into his palms. “But I don’t want to use it! Not like this! A whole system? It’s a waste!”

“It’s _immoral!_ ”

“I haven’t done it yet!”

“Armitage!” She bit back a groan and shifted her seat on the sofa. “You’re not going to be doing _anything!_ ”

“Love, it’s-”

“Don’t _'love'_ me! You’re not going to use it! Not now, not ever!” It took some effort but she got off the sofa. When he tried to help her she swatted him away. “I won’t have my son knowing his father ordered the death of trillions! And I won’t raise him to believe it was a good thing to do!”

“S… son?” Armitage was shocked but not so shocked that when she groaned and stumbled he didn’t keep her from falling. “Are you alright? Is he coming?”

“They’re not regular or close together yet, it’s probably just you stressing me out.” Aneirin lowered herself back into the sofa, still looking angry as ever. “You’re not going to do it.”

“I have to, the Supreme Leader-”

“Don’t make me order you.”

“He outranks you, darling.”

“I don’t like ultimatums but if you do it I will hate you forever, you will never see me or your son ever again, and he will never hear a good word about you out of my mouth.” Her voice was heavy and authoritative, it would have done things to him if he didn’t like the words coming out of her mouth. “I mean it, I really fucking mean it. This is evil, sick, irredeemable shit. This isn’t some ‘needs of the many’ question of philosophy.”

Armitage opened his mouth but no words came out. His datapad chimed, informing him of the next item in his itinerary. “Love.”

“Hate me if you have to. Call me ‘that whore who stole my son.’ But this is your choice.”

“They could kill all of us.” His datapad chimed more insistently. 

“I would rather die than live knowing the man I loved was capable of such a thing.” 

The male general saw that she was serious before she gasped in pain again. “We need to go.”

“They’re not close enough-”

“They will be when we’re getting where we’re going.” He went into her bedroom closet and pulled out her luggage. Hastily he threw in the irreplaceable items around her quarters, photos and unique or priceless things. For the most part, his trap of a mind remembered how much importance was placed with each item around her space. Thankfully she kept all of the really special things in her quarters and not her office. At least not things that would be important after today.

“Armitage-”

“Do your best to make it seem like you’re not feeling unwell.” He helped her off of the sofa and walked her out of her quarters, but not before stopping to choose one of her plants to put into her hands and he stopped at his quarters to retrieve the black stone cat she’d given him and the book he had borrowed. “We’re headed to the shuttle bay. You’re making a series of trips to go home.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.” 

When they were alone in a turbolift she was allowed to let out some of the stress she had been holding in but in the hallways she was her normal flustered pregnant self. Lieutenant Mitaka was waiting for him along with a few of his personal troopers at his command shuttle. “Change of plans. Doctor General Pritchard wishes to accompany me to the surface and then will be heading on a course to the nearest station so she might go back to Corsaira.”

“Of course, sirs.” The poor lieutenant had no choice but to obey orders from two generals, one of which was probably angry enough to rip his face off and the other was very pregnant.

Aneirin elbowed her partner and Armitage almost swore she had to be sensitive to the Force because he knew exactly what she meant by it. “I would consider it a personal favour if you were the one to accompany her home, Lieutenant.”

The young man might have argued had he not seen the look on the doctor’s face. “Of course, sirs, I would be honoured.”

Armitage was elbowed again. “And we will not be needing the guards, we’ll be quite fine without them.”

There was probably going to be some sore feelings from that one but it wouldn’t matter. There was a chorus of modulated affirmatives and all three officers loaded into the shuttle. Dopheld meant to take the pilot’s seat but Armitage beat him to it. Aneirin found a seat at the back of the cockpit. It wasn’t long before the meek lieutenant spoke up. “Sir, you’re not on course.”

“I am, lieutenant, but not the one you’re thinking of.”

“Sir?”

“Lieutenant, you have a choice.” There was the sound of a blaster’s safety being unlocked. He turned and stared at the impending mother. “You could try stopping us and either end up dead, which I will be sorry about, or you’ll be killing a happy little family with your own hands.”

“Or you can be no trouble and either we make it out of here alive and you will live a perfectly normal life on what is a perfectly nice little planet or if we get captured you can say you were coerced and then held at gunpoint by your crazed superior officers.”

Dopheld looked between the two but the fact of the matter was that there was a blaster pointed at him and he had more of a conscience than the average First Order Officer. “Is it really a nice planet?”

“Worth dying for.”

“Aye, sirs.” Aneirin groaned and he swiveled his chair the rest of the way to face her. “General, are you okay?”

“I’ll be better in a couple of hours.”

“And a few kilograms light- Kriff!”

In front of them, the Resistance fleet came out of hyperdrive one by one. Dopheld tapped the copilot’s console to silence all of the alarms. “What should we do, sir?”

“I hadn’t counted on the damn Resistance.” A pained cry made his mind even more anxious.

“Armie, I’m not going to make it home.” The blaster clattered on the deckplates.

“This is going to Hell.” 

“We could defect! Give them information and they will let us go?” The lieutenant’s face was hopeful.

“They’d just think we’re tooling with them.”

“Two generals in one shuttle? One of which is in the process of having a baby?”

The gears turned in Armitage’s mind a little too slowly for his taste. “Love, you said that pilot liked you, the one who got away.”

“Poe Damer- Ah! On. Dameron.”

He couldn’t believe his hands were shaking as he opened up the communications channel, only after blocking their former vessel from listening in. “This is General Armitage Hux of the First Order, I wish to speak with Captain Dameron.”

There was an insane amount of attempted chatter but eventually, that suave voice came through on a closed frequency. “General Hugs, what can I do for you?”

“You can keep this shuttle from being shot into a million pieces.”

“Why would I do a thing like that?” Armitage kept his side of the channel open as Aneirin cried out in the back, Dopheld having abandoned his seat to sit with her. “That’ll do it. I didn’t think that Resistance joke would actually come true.”

“We don’t have time for your inane talking, Dameron.”

“Right, right.” 

As the shuttle was brought into one of the capital ships Armitage relayed every bit of information he could, starting with the most pertinent. He hoped that the confusion of his absence on Starkiller would prevent its use until the Resistance could do what they do best: muck everything up.

When the shuttle landed and the loading door lowered, a group of armed soldiers met them along with a medical team. Armitage was deaf to the lieutenant’s protestations as he was taken under guard, but the redhead was on the verge of being a wild animal when they tried keeping him from her. “You won’t make me miss this, damn you!”

“You need to finish giving us your intel, General,” a Resistance captain ordered. “There’s a war going on you know. If you don’t hand it all over, that kid might not even have the chance to be born.”

“I told you everything you need to know for this engagement, now let me go!” He wasn’t suicidal enough to resist the ring of armed men and women.

The captain, a woman, jerked her head towards where Lieutenant Mitaka had disappeared. “Better talk quick, then.”

Armitage was seething the whole time, talking into a recorder as they moved, taking that ‘talk quick’ comment seriously.

The battle had been won and the capital ship moved away from immediate danger but it was hours before he was allowed into the medbay room. He was thankful his son hadn’t been born yet, though he felt a great pain knowing his love had been suffering alone surrounded by strangers. Immediately upon seeing her he grabbed her hand and pressed a series of kisses to her sweaty brow. “I’m here now, it’s okay. I’m here for you.”

It wasn’t long before he was holding his son in his arms. He gave her time to rest, she practically went out like a light, but a few hours later he was sitting in a chair near her bed, cradling the sleeping infant. “Were you thinking of names? I can’t believe we didn’t talk about names.”

“Ewan.” Armitage asked what the name meant to her and he nodded his approval. “Do you have a name you want to use?”

“I don’t really have any family I would want to name him after.”

“You could give him your name.” The new father tested the name on his tongue several times.

“I like it.”

Dopheld came to visit and somehow Armitage didn’t bat an eye about letting the man hold his son. It seemed the more people he got to hold the boy the happier he was. Sadly it was because he was finding it difficult to get his partner to hold the infant for longer than it took to feed him and even that seemed like too much. The Republic doctor begrudgingly assured him that where normal post-birth strangeness ended they would work on medication. It nagged the former general that if neither of those worked then he’d made the wrong choice in arguing for them to keep their child, but only when the boy was out of sight. When his bundle of joy was around he couldn’t imagine a life without him.

“Look at you, every ounce a proud dad.” Poe decided to visit the medbay room where they had set up a nursery for the baby boy and Armitage had taken it upon himself to claim it as impromptu quarters. Not like he had much in the way of personal items. “We gotta get you something else to wear.”

“I took the badges off, isn’t that enough?” He hadn’t bothered packing spare clothes for himself, they were all standard issue uniforms. He’d settled for removing the insignia on the shoulders with some scissors he’d found and he didn’t bother buttoning the jacket all the way, leaving the top open to show off his special collar.

“It’s just kinda weird, seeing someone walking around in that uniform. Too bad you’ll have to get a new collar.”

“I don’t want to get rid of it. We’ll worry about it when we’re home and settled in.”

“May I?” A baby wrapped in a blanket found its way into the pilot’s arms. “Been a long time since I’d seen a baby this small.”

“I am not sure I have ever seen such a young child.” Armitage felt his chest fill with pride, but then he deflated all at once. “I pray to anyone who is listening that I don’t ruin this.”

“I dunno, sounds like you have quite the counterpart in the next room.” The redhead sniffled and Poe was unsure if he was amused or worried. “You know, other people can take care of him for a bit. You need your rest too.”

“It’s not that.” He sat down and the pilot paced the floor with the infant. “I’m worried she doesn’t love him.”

“A lot of stuff just happened. You deserted, she just had him, there are only two people on this ship she trusts and two more she knows.” Poe sat down carefully. “You can deal with it. You love her, you love him… I’m sure she just needs some time. And I’m sure she loves him, even if being a mother is hard.”

“I didn’t grow up with my mother and my stepmother hated me. I just want him to have what I didn’t.” He wasn’t sure just why he was spilling his feelings to this man, but he supposed it was best he get it out.

“Well, he has a dad who loves him enough for two people. When his mom comes around it’ll be like he has three parents.” Poe handed the boy over before going back to his duties.

* * *

It was hard, but they had help. On Corsaira, Dopheld stayed with them, not really sure of what he was supposed to do without the First Order. Aneirin had known the royal family of the planet and they gifted their vacation home near her birth village of Finndale as a joint homecoming, wedding, and new child present. People she knew from the village, which was practically everyone, would come and go to visit their family and friend, offering help in the form of seeing to the meals and cleaning, sometimes a relative with a reversed sleep schedule would stay up for feeding the boy at night so the permanent residents could get uninterrupted sleep. 

It was hard, but Ewan grew up to be a happy and healthy boy. He got to learn all sorts of things, even some of the Corsairan dialects, and he loved teaching his father what he learned. There had been a suspicion for a long time but around his 8th birthday, the Magi came and determined that he was Earthbound. Armitage had gone into a panic, the ancient fairy tale of the Jedi taking Force-sensitive children from their families never to be seen again. They assured him there was no such thing, that he would never be taken away and that there was a school near enough that he wouldn’t even need to be a boarding student.

Ewan grew up to be sweet and strong. He was so incredibly caring that sometimes it even moved his father to tears. He grew taller than his dad, which he owed to his large grandfather, and inherited their red hair.

What Armitage hadn’t expected was that he was incredibly attached to his mother. It wasn’t to the point where he’d cry and call out of her when she went back to working as a doctor and he didn’t need to spend every waking moment with her. His father knew it was that ridiculous empathy that the Force granted him, but it boggled the former general just how precisely Ewan knew when to be around and what to say. Armitage bit his nails in worry the first few years of the boy’s life, but the older he became the more Aneirin expressed her love.

“I’m so incredibly proud of him.”

They had just celebrated his fifteenth birthday. Soon she was turning fifty, and then he would be too. Dopheld had started working in the capital of Malarra after Ewan turned five and had met a young man there, they were currently on vacation for their eighth anniversary. Armitage was feeling incredibly old but she told him his life expectancy had suddenly increased by about twenty to thirty years.

He found her hand in the nest of blankets they’d made in the glow of a fire. There was the song of insects in the air, the air was crisp, and the galaxy sparkled above them.

“I am glad I convinced you to keep him.”

“I wonder what it would be like without him. I guess the problem is you just can’t know how everything will turn out.”

“That’s true. I think I would still love you.”

“I think you might not have told me about _Starkiller_. And if you had maybe I wouldn’t have been able to convince you to do the right thing.”

They were silent for a long time, either staring at the fire at their feet or the fires in the dark sky. 

“I like the way things turned out. Even if I’ve done some bad things. I wish I’d thought they were bad at the time.”

“You can’t change the past.”

“But now I’m capable of guilt.”

“Well, you have a long time to be guilty about things.”

“It gets better when I do things that help. Does it make me a better person?”

“Debatable.”

“I think all of your kindness got sucked out into our son.” 

“Well, then, I won’t say what I was just thinking.” 

Armitage whined. “Tell me. I’ll die of curiosity.”

“I was going to say, I’m proud of you too.”


	60. Kurentovanje

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A request for my good friend @galacticempiredidnothingwrong , who asked me to write about Ani and Armitage celebrating Kurentovanje.  
> Tags: SFW, Fluffy and Cute  
>  **Word Count** : 1087, Unrevised

Armitage thought he had handled his first Yule fairly well, it wasn’t as demanding as he thought it might be. Of course, they had done a much more reserved version while together on the _Finalizer_ , so he supposed he had some practice. He did not have experience for what his wife was asking of him now. “I’m not doing this.”

“Why not?” Aneirin’s face fell from a gleeful smile to utter disappointment.

“It’s ridiculous.”

“It’s tradition!”

“Not every tradition is worth celebrating.” He knew he said the wrong words just as they left his mouth. Her offended gasp was the audible equivalent of a smack to the face. “Love, I didn’t-”

“You know how I feel about this stuff.”

Armitage sighed. “It’s just that-”

“I understand.” Yelling and angry expressions Armitage could handle, that was mostly just her getting excited and carried away. He couldn’t stay calm when she coolly walked away from him, it felt too much like it might be the last time.

“Please, let’s keep talking about this.” He followed her into the next room where she had hoped to escape him. “Look, I’ll forget that your first words on this subject were ‘wear this,’ so you can explain it from the beginning.”

“It’s _kurentovanje_ tomorrow.” Armitage repeated the word; he liked to repeat things when she said them in Corsairan so he could at least try to learn her language a little better, not all of her family members had a decent command of Basic. “There are good spirits called _kurent_ who scare away winter so that spring can come. We dress up like _kurent_ and go around the village scaring winter away. Then there’s a big party.”

The eating, drinking, games, and dancing didn’t bother him much anymore, usually because these people were no stranger to quiet men who could drink a little too much in a tense situation. He’d been barred from both games of skill and dancing.

His problem was with the dressing up.

Apparently, a _kurent_ was a large woolen creature, usually with horns, and wore bells around its waist. The costume she had shown him had a fierce face and was decorated with colorful strips of cloth. “I’ll think about it.”

‘Thinking about it’ involved mostly coming to terms with the fact that he was going to do it anyway because he loved his wife but he would try to find some other positives. If they all did it then it couldn’t be embarrassing and it didn’t sound like it was some complex ritual he might screw up. If the costume was already made then he couldn’t offend someone by making it incorrectly. Armitage decided to dig through some of the photo albums that he hadn’t already perused on their old ship and sure enough there were quite a few of these celebrations and others that he recognized. What caught his eye was a young Aneirin with her father, the heads of their kurent costumes in their hands.

He found her in the kitchen, preparing food like she told him she would be. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your father’s?”

“I wanted you to do it because it is part of who I am, not just because you feel bad that my parents are gone.” Armitage was sure she was crying from cutting onions but normally she rubbed mint under her nose to keep from tearing up, so it stood to reason she wanted the excuse.

“I don’t know what it means to grow up as part of a family or a culture that wasn’t blind loyalty to military life,” he spoke as he moved behind her to take away the knife before she could cut herself. “But I think it’s not a reasonable expectation that you can remove your parents and their deaths from who you are.”

“I just…” It wasn’t often when Aneirin couldn’t properly articulate her feelings, she usually had to spell things out for her husband. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.

“I know.” Armitage rubbed her back and combed the short hair at the back of her head with his fingers. “It’s been hard for you, even though you thought it would make you happy to come home. I want to cheer you up, does the reasoning behind it have to be so profound?”

“No,” she mumbled pathetically into his soft flannel shirt. “You’ll do it?”

“I’ll do it, though I think we need to make some alterations. I know I’m tall but I’m nowhere near as big as your father was.” He gave her one last big squeeze before they let go. “But first, how about I help you make all this food?”

It had amazed him, and Aneirin if she was being honest, how much he enjoyed new things. He could be a bit of an old man, his wife would say, and stubbornly insist that he would not enjoy trying to have fun. Maybe he looked like a fool but everyone else thought it was normal, so what was the harm? Besides, his father was probably turning in his grave if there was an afterlife and that alone was reason enough to participate, he would do almost anything to spite the dead man. Then people started being excited to see him; they knew it was him but they would regale fond stories about Magnus and Armitage had to admit the man had an entertaining history. Children wanted him to lift them up into the air or carry them on his shoulders and for that, he would be whining on the sofa for all of tomorrow.

He always had a hard time eating a lot but he made a valiant effort to try everything, even stealing food off of Aneirin’s plate. All of the better cooks in the village liked to trap him in the impossible situation of asking whose cooking he liked best. If he said his wife he looked like a suck-up, and if he told the truth then he worried about hurting her feelings. So he came prepared with a detailed analysis that broke down everyone’s strength and weaknesses, the effects of the seasons, timing, and presentation. No one asked after that, but he kept collecting data points just so if it came up again he could espouse the importance of sample sizes.

Running through the village paths dressed like a small wampa? Much more fun than he thought it would be.

He was looking forward to spring.


	61. Prompt Collection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From [this prompt list.](https://imperator-titus.tumblr.com/post/181234862624/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-prompt)  
> SFW and slightly NSFW, Canonverse and AUs. Will be updated as they get filled.  
>  **Time Periods/AUs:** Modern (Bite, Stop/Congrats), Young+Modern (Guardian), Resistance Hux (Together), Hux Lives With His Mother AU (Confess), Mermaid Hux (Grab), In the Arms of Angels/Vampire Aneirin AU (Stay), EMT Hux (Hush), Cadet Armitage/Aneirin (Sorry), Grey Jedi Master Aneirin (Hush/Together)  
>  Updated: 12/23/2018

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Together' is revised and featured in my Collector's Edition book:  
> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.

**Sleep**

Despite all efforts, General Hux did not sleep nearly as much as he should. This used to mean he could be found at his desk at odd hours of the night, but now he found that getting out of bed was unappealing. Most nights he wasn’t alone and after a few tries, it was decided that he couldn’t get out of bed without waking his much more health-minded companion. Doctor Reader would inevitably groan, sit up, and sleepily demand he come back to bed, sometimes on the threat of mandated medical leave. He would crawl back into bed and be made her pillow, but it was more like being placed under a heavy rock so that he wouldn’t move again.

So now Armitage sits up and props his datapad on his bent legs when he can’t sleep. The gentle glow of the screen wasn’t enough to bother her and he’d gotten good at the sitting up process. Often he would lose focus and simply lean his head against the wall, watching her sleep. Aneirin would mutter things and he tried to understand them, but they were regularly in her Corsairan dialect that he still found difficult to understand. Sometimes she would laugh in her sleep so suddenly Armitage almost lept out of his skin or they would hold conversations that she had no recollection of in the morning. Such conversations usually involved him coming to bed late and in the morning he would receive another earful for not coming to bed. 

Even on an uneventful night, he’d find a gentle pleasure in watching her breath, maybe her face would make a tiny movement, or she would groan pathetically. A soft touch of her hair could calm distress and if she woke from a nightmare Armitage was there to hold her. Once when he had been sleeping she woke from one and admitted it took some debating whether or not she should wake him too. When he finally admitted to his little midnight habit Aneirin found it sweet and then threatened to slip sleeping pills into his before-bed tea.

**Bite**

Armitage did not like being ignored. But it wasn’t as if Aneirin was ever really ignoring him, it was more so that she had learned to tune out his existence when she wanted to focus. He had tried politely asking for her attention. Then he started gently nudging her, leaning his weight into her. He would start repeating her name until she responded. Sometimes she was apologetic, other times she was mad.

Currently, she was working on the final touches for a conference she would be speaking for next month. He was just a simple lawyer, he would joke, and did his best to understand her work. The offered reasoning was so that maybe it would offer insight on cases where there were medical influences, but really Armitage loved listening to her talk and especially so when it was passionate and confident. She, of course, asked him about his work and he could tell it was difficult for her to not offer her opinions on something that weren’t professionally founded, but it turned out she also loved listening to him talk. As it turned out, he loved listening to himself talk a little too much.

All strategies had been useless and he had to find a new one. So he came up behind her at her desk, experimented with brushing her hair away from one shoulder, which had the effect of her reflexively exposing that neck with a tilt of her head. Armitage leaned down, waited for her to tell him to stop, and when she didn’t he grazed his teeth along her skin and took the tender spot where neck met shoulder into a soft bite. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Distracting you.” He licked the spot before placing his lips near her ear, the sound of his voice so close always made her tingle. “I miss you.”

“You’re needier than a hungry cat.”

“Speaking of which, it’s your turn to make dinner.”

* * *

**Guardian**

Thin, weak, and useless. That’s what Armitage’s father thought of him. It wasn’t a very loving thing to say, was it? The other kids had just about the same opinions of him; they hated his accent, his red hair, his pale skin. He was gangly, soft-spoken, and bright. His smart brain was unfortunately connected to a smart mouth that got him into trouble. Many times he found himself with his face pushed into the dirt, ruining his shirt sleeves by rubbing his bloodied nose.

One day the weight that had pinned him to the ground was suddenly lifted and Armitage heard a heavy thud followed by a distressed wail. When he got to his feet he saw a girl sitting on his attacker, keeping him from getting away or fighting back. He remembered that her name was Aneirin. She had just moved into the school’s district from someplace he’d never heard of, but wherever it was it made her sound almost as different from their peers as he did. She was the tallest girl in their class and she was just about as smart and quiet like him, so he hadn’t noticed her much; she hadn’t given anyone much reason to notice her with her subdued plain self.

All three of them ended up in the principal’s office and Armitage was shaking like a leaf, he didn’t want his father to have any more reasons to be angry with him. But just like on the athletic field the big blonde defended him and for once the redhead was let go, except his rescuer got the blame for fighting. 

School ended and like he always did, Armitage sat on the top stair waiting for one of his father’s employees to pick him up. They were always late, he wasn’t important enough for them to rush over. “Hi, Armitage.”

“Hello.” Aneirin plopped down beside him on the stair and she smiled at him. There was a scratch on her face. “I’m sorry you got in trouble because of me.”

“I’m not sorry, Ben had it coming.” She looked him over. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Armitage looked at his feet. “Where are you from again?”

“Park Rapids, Minnesota.”

“Does everyone sound like you there?”

“Mmm, mostly, I guess!” She rapped her feet on the stone step. “I know people think I talk funny.”

“They think I talk strangely too.”

“I don’t mind! English people are supposed to be fancy and polite, right?” The smile on her face told him she wasn’t lying. A pickup truck pulled up and she stood up. “I just wanted to tell you something.”

“Yes?” Armitage, out of habit, waited for the insult.

“As long as I’m around, I’ll protect you.” Aneirin didn’t wait for him to respond, she just smiled, ran down the steps, and got into the truck, leaving a very stunned redhead behind.

* * *

**Together**

Armitage couldn’t believe his luck. They were sure to promote him now. At the other end of his rifle was none other than an enemy general.

Doctor General Pritchard, to be more exact. Hands in the air, looking slightly on edge, as she should.

“I’m not going to put up a fight, friend.”

He scoffed. “I’m not your friend, First Order _dog_.”

“I have a habit of making friends.” She took a step forward and his blaster rifle readjusted to be level with where her heart should be. The general turned slowly and deliberately placed her hands behind her back. “Go ahead, you probably don’t have long to get off this planet before someone comes looking for me.”

He hastily bound her wrists and took hold of her by the elbow. “Come on, General.”

He’d run into her on his way back from securing an order of medical supplies for the Resistance; apparently, she had been inquiring about more legal ventures with the company at the same time. If she had bothered with an armed escort Armitage would have had no choice but to take the back exit. He was thankful for her hubris if nothing else. They made it back to his ship through dark back alleys and after engaging the magnetic locks that would keep her in place, he started up the engines for take-off. It was a long-range vessel and they had a long way to go, but he hadn’t thought of the logistics quite yet.

A missing general was something that inspired a greater Order presence and Armitage was forced to hide the ship on a nearby moon. He sat with rapt attention on his radar, listening to communications chatter. A noise from behind him caused a reflexive spring for his blaster, only to find his captor trying her best to lie down on the bench he secured her to. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m tired,” she explained while testing the leeway in the magnetic lock’s ability to twist, “and I believe we will be here a while.”

“You can _sleep_ at a time like this?”

“Did I mention that I was tired? Very tired. All the excitement takes it out of you.” Her neck craned under the weight of her head. “You wouldn’t mind finding something I could use as a pillow, would you?”

Armitage rolled his eyes and made the most incredulous sound he could muster. He had to hand it to her, she was right, it would be a miracle if they could get off the moon unscathed for quite some time. He abandoned his pilot’s chair, shrugged off his jacket, folded it up to an appropriate height, and placed it begrudgingly under her head.

“I appreciate it.”

“Repay me by shutting the hell up.”

“I talk when I’m nervous.”

“Do something else.”

“I could sing.”

“No!” When he turned to give the captured general a stern look he found her grinning with amusement. “ _Stars_ , are all First Order officers like you?”

“No, you’re just _incredibly_ lucky.” She closed her eyes and didn’t open them again. Armitage sat back down and propped his head on his hand, waiting for a sign that they could slip past the First Order search parties. A few hours later he was picking his head off of the console. “I hate to be a bother but I would consider it an act of human decency if you could-”

“Yeah, yeah, hold on.” He combed his red hair with his fingers before unlocking her from the ship’s wall, pulled her into a sitting position, and then to her feet. Under the threat of blaster fire at point-blank range, he undid her restraints and shoved her into the ship’s refresher.

“I drooled on your jacket, I’m sorry,” she called from the other side of the door.

“ _Seriously?_ ”

“Just another war crime, I suppose.”

At least she was a little funny. Not many people got a laugh out of him.

* * *

**Confess**

“I love you.” 

They had said it at the same time and like some movie they turned away out of embarrassment.

Armitage and Aneirin had known each other for a long time. His mother had come to Corsaira before he was born and each time Aneirin went with her father to drop off supplies for the Mountain Mothers, the two children would play. When it came time for them to start school, his mother moved them to Finndale on his insistence; it wasn’t like there were any other children at the Home anyway. They got to sit next to each other in class, played together, did homework together. They were just kids, but when they got older they knew it had been love from the start.

Armitage had decided he was going to be an engineer, Aneirin wanted to be a doctor. They had been afraid of telling the other, worried that it meant they would never see each other. They could talk every day but that wasn’t quite the same as being able to hold hands while walking down the plaza.

Now they could have an apartment together. They would cook for each other, do each other’s laundry, sit and do work together like old times. They could go out on dates, take trips during breaks. Take care of each other when they got sick. Laugh about grey hairs and new wrinkles. Say ‘I love you’ every day.

* * *

**Grab**

“You’re an idiot.”

Currently, Armitage was on the receiving end of a very stern Aneirin in Caretaker Mode. It wasn’t as fun as he thought it would be.

The human couldn’t spend all her time in the water, that was an undeniable fact, even if she had the magic necklace. With the treasure that the mermaid found in shipwrecks, she built a new cabin closer to the water and a new fishing boat. It was hard, a relationship between an aquatic monster and a human, and he expected some rough patches.

“Maybe I just got hurt so you would come down to the water.” Armitage hissed as she finished up disinfecting and sealing the cut on his shoulder.

“Then you’re even worse than an idiot.” It took a lot for Aneirin to be mad and he felt like it was a sign that she was slipping away. Before she could get up he placed his hand on her leg, his golden tail splashing as he flipped in the calm shallows where he usually came to spend time with her.

“Please don’t leave yet.” He was desperate, Armitage just hadn’t realized how desperate until the words tumbled out of his mouth. “I’ll get legs. Then we can be together.”

Aneirin shook her head. “Then you’d give up everything to be a human. I won’t let you do that for me.”

“I don’t care, I want to be with you.”

“You’ll find someone else, Armitage.” Aneirin got to her feet. There was a flurry of splashes as he did his best to leap out of the water, succeeded in knocking her into the water, grabbed her face, and smashed their lips together.

“I don’t want someone else. I want you.” Her blue eyes searched his face and found honesty. Fingers tangled in his wet hair at the base of his neck, she pulled him into another heated kiss.

* * *

**Stay**

Armitage didn’t mind being food. At least not as much as he thought he would. It made his skin tingle and then his head felt light. He didn’t quite pass out but he would be so relaxed that when she was done it was all he could do to become boneless. Millennia of this meant the Duchess knew exactly how to pick a good spot for dinner.

The castle was a comfortable home. He was someone important to an important person. There was a vast library at his disposal, plenty of land to roam, things to do. He went with her on trips to other castles, he got to see the world from a carriage window and never had to worry about a thing. The silver pendant with the A always had a place around his neck, the weight reminding him that he was decidedly part of this mortal world.

The moon was silvery coming through his bedroom window and it was a cool autumn night. He weakly grabbed her wrist when she tried to remove herself from him. “Please.”

“Do you feel ill, Armitage?” Regret briefly crossed the Duchess’s face.

“No. Please stay.”

She hesitated but then settled back into the bed. “If you want me to, I will.”

“Thank you.” He knew vampires were too prideful to admit that they needed the intimacy. It just was that he too was prideful. Being drunk from blood loss made him just a bit bolder.

* * *

**Hush**

Armitage was used to being the one arrived after horrific scenes, not the one preventing them from happening.

After he handed over the keys to his ambulance he didn’t bother taking his usual post-shift shower and change, because Armitage loved how his girlfriend would bury her nose in his neck and sniff him. He didn’t do it every time, he felt gross up until he saw her, but then they’d get a shower together.

So he had walked into her ER feeling very proud and ‘manly’, even if she didn’t particularly have a preference and liked his ‘feminine’ habits just as much, but later he realized that it was very fortunate he was already in ‘I could fight a bear with my bare hands’ mode.

Because when Armitage saw his 5’2” girlfriend, who could admittedly lift his 195lbs straight into the air, be grabbed by a man yelling unintelligibly, the EMT ran forward without hesitation. Twisting a wrist and laying the guy out on his front gave a police officer in the waiting room enough time to come in and handle the situation. The redhead took his shocked doctor by the elbow and pulled her out into a quieter hall.

“Oh my god,” she said, more to herself than to him.

“I know,” he replied as he pulled Aneirin into his arms, placing a hand on the back of her head to press it against his chest. He could feel his heart hammering. “You’re okay, I got you.”

“Armitage,” she managed in a breaking voice. Adrenaline wore off and tears came. 

“Shhh, I’m here.” People flowed around them as if they were a rock in a river.

* * *

**Sorry**

“What do you mean you don’t know how to play chess?” Knowing how to play the ancient strategic game was second nature to the elite groomed from birth to be officers, it simply had not occurred to Cadet Hux that someone of equal standing would not know chess.

“I mean, we have something similar, but I just never bothered to learn it.” Cadet Reader felt alienated enough on a normal basis, she was a little annoyed one of the people she believed was her friend was making her feel this way.

Armitage took her hand and pulled her in the direction of his dorm room. “We must rectify this. Every proper officer should know chess.”

She watched as he set up the board on his low coffee table; he had offered her the sofa while he brought over his desk chair. Then he explained how each piece moved and the victory condition. “White goes first, so I’ve made you white.”

“Okay…” Aneirin stares at the board and debated how to move her first piece. Her hand hovered over a piece on the far right.

“It would make the most sense to control the middle of the board,” Armitage interrupted before she could make her move.

“But on a field, you would want to create a bowl so that you can surround your enemy’s army and not have to be worried about their-”

“Pieces in chess do not move the same as men on a field.”

“But you said to ‘think about it as a battle.’ You said that’s why officers know chess.”

“It’s more the principles of strategy, combining forward planning and reactionary decisions.” His eyes were on her hand as they picked a pawn and moved it to e4. He placed his pawn opposite hers at e5. “Besides, you would not be micromanaging the movement of your fleet, if you were the commander.”

He was so focused on the board, waiting for her move, that he didn’t notice the uncharacteristically sour look on her face. Her fingers landed on another white pawn and he clicked his tongue. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“You obviously have an opinion. I didn’t take you for the type.”

Armitage flicked his eyes up, found he didn’t enjoy how she was staring at him and returned his gaze to the board. In his best attempt to sound aloof he said, “What type?”

“The type that lets everyone know he thinks their idea is wrong but won’t correct them.”

“Fine. I would move your knight into a position to take my pawn.”

“You wouldn’t let me just take your pawn though. It would make more sense to secure a united front for defense.” She demonstrated a wall-like movement of the pieces towards him with her hands.

“No, but the provocation could create an opening in my defense.”

“But you know that.”

“Of course I know that. It’s not entirely inevitable. That is where real strategy comes in, learning to control your openings, putting your opponent off his intended move set.”

“Fine.” She moved one of her knights to f3, albeit begrudgingly. He reacted by placing a pawn at f6 and he could tell it didn’t take her long to realize if she really did take his first pawn then he could take her knight. Her eyes moved along the board before placing a finger on another pawn. “What now?”

Armitage didn’t think he had made any noticeable reactions. “You should take my pawn.”

“But you’ll take my knight.”

“It’s not about the number of pieces you have.”

“But a knight is worth more than a pawn.”

“Why would you say that? They can all take each other, none is impervious to a pawn.”

Aneirin’s face was turning red and her tone was getting suspiciously more harsh and accented. “It has more range of movement, it has a bigger tactical advantage.”

“Just take my damn pawn.”

“Take your own _damn_ pawn, you _jerk!_ ” The angry Corsairan slipped the insults in where he couldn’t understand them, got to her feet, and stomped over to the door. Armitage quickly got up and beat her to the door, putting his hand against it to keep her from opening it. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He assessed his imposing position and found that it did, in fact, look like he was trying to trap a small young woman in his dorm room. Armitage dropped his hand and stepped away from the door. “I was only trying to teach you an important and useful sk-”

“ _Fuck you!_ ” He didn’t know what she said but he could tell it wasn’t kind. Though she was clearly angry her eyes were tearing up and her voice wavered.

“What is wrong, Aneirin?”

“You’re frustrating me and I don’t like you right now!” With that, she opened the door and instead of waiting for the turbolift she chose to take the stairs. Armitage watched until the stairwell door closed and he went back to the privacy of his own room. At first, he’d thought, _how could that make her cry?_ Then he remembered how he used to get so frustrated and discouraged that he would cry, but that was when he was a child.

 _She’s not a child for crying, don’t think that._ He knew better than that. Armitage had once made the mistake of repeating one of his father’s sexist opinions of why women shouldn’t be in positions of power and received a very well researched lesson on endocrine systems that took up most of a good weekend afternoon. He considered that it wasn’t just him that was a factor, they were of course under stress and he couldn’t know everything that happened during her days.

After some more careful analysis, he realized that he could have been a better teacher and had been too condescending. If she had spoken to him like that he would have gotten frustrated with her too. But Aneirin wouldn’t have spoken to him like that.

Somehow he needed to apologize. Did he just say it? He was worried a verbal apology from him would be found insincere. There wasn’t much in the way of gestures available around the Academy and he couldn’t help her with her work.

Armitage knew her favorite color was purple, so he went to the Academy gardens and found whatever purple flowers he could. It would have been embarrassing to be seen walking around with a bouquet, but he was willing to take the hit to his vanity. His friendship with Cadet Reader was more important, or at least he thought so. He found her sitting on the edge of the pier and throwing collected stones into the water to watch the ripples expand and collide. “Cadet.”

_Plop._

“Aneirin.” He lowered himself to sit beside her.

“What are those for?” _Plop._

“I apologize that I was not speaking to you in a respectful way. My intention really was to help your understanding of strategy and I could have been a better teacher.” He offered the bouquet to her. 

_Plop._

“I was also looking forward to spending time with you and having an activity we could engage in that might also be enjoyable for the both of us.”

_Plplplp-plp-plp-plop._

The last of the stones having left her hand, Aneirin took the flowers from him and brought them to her nose. “How cliché.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to apologies.”

“You’ve apologized twice now.”

Armitage opened his mouth and closed it after nothing came out. Then he chuckled. “You’re right.”

“I’m sorry I was angry with you.”

“It’s fine, I would have been angry with me too.”

“We’ll try again some other time.” Aneirin leaned over and kissed him on the cheek innocently.

Armitage smiled. “I would enjoy that.”

* * *

**Stop/Congrats**

It was their first anniversary and Aneirin was avoiding him. Armitage knew she was mad, it was in her silence and how she would roll onto her side rather than cuddle before bed. He was hoping that their date would fix things, because he couldn’t think of why she was angry.

She beat him to the restaurant that evening and he kissed her cheek before getting into his seat. “How was your shift, love?”

“Fine.” Normally she had a lot to say, it was even more worrying that she didn’t tonight. “How was work?”

“Dealing with inflated egos all day makes me all the more excited to see you. And I’ve worked up an appetite.” He ordered himself a drink and would be ready to order by the time it came. “Just that time of year.”

“Like Christmas.” Aneirin swirled her scotch and tossed the last swallow back. “I guess it’s been keeping you busy lately.”

“I’m hoping in the next few days it will quiet down. Maybe in a few months we can get away again. I loved going back to Ireland with you.” They ordered and she asked for another drink.

“We’ll see.”

Conversation was short and tense. Armitage didn’t want to ask what the problem was because he didn’t want to set her off in a public space. It would be embarrassing but he didn’t want her to be even more embarrassed when she calmed down and realized she’d made a scene. So they walked home and he was sad when she didn’t hold his hand. It took all his patience to wait until they had taken off their coats and shoes. “An, darling, what-“

“Tell me the truth,” she spat, her face more enraged than it had been when she met his father, “are you cheating on me?”

“What?” The question had blindsided him so badly it was his only available response.

“You’ve been coming home late! And sometimes you smell all flowery! I know you’re not at the office, I know when Dopheld is lying!”

“Love, I’m not seeing someone!”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not, I swear!” Armitage tried pulling her into a hug, thinking it would calm her like she did to him, but she wrestled away. “I was with Ben.”

“You hate Ben.” Aneirin carefully enunciated, which meant she was on the verge of falling back into her rural accent, which she only did when she was drunk and about to fight someone. He was betting it was both, their check was higher than he expected.

“He was helping me make your present. Just wait a minute. Please.” He ducked into his office and went into the closet. He came back out with a box wrapped in shiny paper with a bow. “Open it.”

Begrudgingly she undid the bow and ripped off the paper. The vibration of anger turned into the quaking of impending tears. Delicately she lifted a string out of the box and on the other end was a wooden figure. “Is that my dad?”

“It’s your whole family. All your old pets.” Armitage picked one that was a border collie. “For the Christmas Tree this year.”

He reacted quickly, taking the box before it was dropped and putting it on a nearby table. There was the embrace he had been hoping for. “I’m so sorry I made you think I was having an affair. I would never dream of it.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, honey,” she mumbled into his shirt. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” He squeezed her tight. “We can have a second first anniversary.”

“I’ll make you that roast you like.” After days of refusing to cuddle him, she was like a leech stuck to his side.

“How did you know exactly what I wanted for our anniversary?”

* * *

**Hush/Together**

General Hux had tried everything he knew: taking apart the engine and fiddling with bits, turning the computer on and off again, reading through the diagnostics manual, and now pacing around like a caged animal occasionally cursing. In the copilot seat of the shuttle sat Master Aneirin, who was apparently quite comfortable with meditating while they were adrift in the emptiness of space. “Don’t you know how to fix this?”

“Not really my field of expertise,” the Grey Jedi replied in a calm even tone. “You should sit.”

“I will not,” he spat back petulantly. If he stopped pacing then he would start digging at his palms with his nails. “There must be something.”

“I believe in your ability to read a technical manual, General, and I’m sure that if a mind like yours came up with no solutions then we simply must wait for our beacon to be answered. It is most likely something we cannot fix.”

“What a load of good your magic does us!” The heels of his boots hit the deck harder now as he made his circuit.

“You’re tired, you need rest,” Aneirin spoke softly as she unfolded from her meditating stance and got to her feet.

“How can I rest at a time like this?” For emphasis, Armitage indicated the command console which was belligerently flashing colors it shouldn’t.

“There’s nothing you can do right now, General.” She tilted her head inside the hood of her soft charcoal-gray robe. “Don’t make me Force you to sleep.”

He scoffed and turned away from her. It had sounded like a joke, to send a General and some Master of the Grey Jedi together to do Stars Knew What. One would think she should be on this ship with Ren, who was admittedly even less of someone Armitage wanted to be stuck in a disabled shuttle with. He was surprised at how easily he fell asleep as soon as he laid down in one of the cramped crew quarters.

The Hux son never knew his real mother and had always assumed he never would. Never had an image of her, never knew her voice or what she smelled like. To have a dream so vivid and real, Armitage would have believed it if someone told him he had lived his life all over again with the consciousness of an adult. Everything was there and it was clear as transparisteel after he opened his eyes. He realized there was a figure standing over him and he flinched back defensively. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You were calling out in your sleep, I came to check on you.” Master Aneirin had had a hand reaching out to him, which she now put down by her side. “Are you-”

“I’m quite alright, thank you,” he said without any politeness. “Don’t you have something you could be doing?”

She shrugged. “Not really. Just waiting.”

“Well, kindly do it somewhere else.” There was a moment where Armitage regretted being so blatantly rude, but she shrugged again and left the cramped room. He didn’t think too hard about why she had been there in the first place.

Not all that much had time had really passed and like Ahab and his whale, the General was determined to catch more of the images that had blessed his sleep. What was a gift turned into a nightmare as he was taken from his mother and he knew he would never see her again. This time he awoke to the sound of gentle shushing, his hair being stroked, and a hand radiating warmth from where it laid on his shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Master Aneirin reassured and he, for once, believed her. 

Slowly it occurred to him that the warmth of her hand was unnatural and that this was very inappropriate behavior. “What are you doing?”

“Calming you. I couldn’t make tea.” Her hand retreated and Armitage wouldn’t admit that he immediately missed the sensation. She let him sit up before continuing, “I got the engine back, but we probably should probably still wait for them to come with a new shuttle.”

“How?”

A small self-amused smile graced her lips. “This time it was me reading the manual.”

“Are all you Jedi so smug?”

She pretended to think about it. “There’s usually something going on, yes.” 

Armitage sighed heavily. “At least you’re more bearable than Ren.”

“I believe most things in the galaxy are more bearable than Ben.”


	62. What In Carnation?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: General  
> Warnings: None  
> Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy  
> Character(s): Armitage Hux, Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Dopheld Mitaka (Minor Role), Ben Solo (Mention), Phasma (Mention), Brendol Hux (Mention), Magnus Pritchard (OMC), Frederick Crath (OMC) (Mention)  
> Pairing: Armitage Hux/Aneirin Pritchard (OFC), Armitage Hux/Original Female Character  
> Tags: Fluff, Valentine's Day, AU: Modern, AU: High School  
> Words: 3999  
> Published: 2019-02-10, Revised: 2019-04-14  
> Summary: High School Senior Armitage decides to extend his circle of friends one fateful Valentine's Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to [A Million Lives: Collector’s Edition Vol. 1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sm_XizydRPh5Vl74mdjmU60AkvRwemHg/view), a PDF version of the book.

Armitage disliked Valentine’s Day just about as much as he disliked any other holiday but he especially disliked it when he got to high school. The student government organized a charity every year where people could buy carnations and the money would go towards prom. A message could be written on a little card and attached to the flower, which would be delivered during homeroom on Valentine’s Day or the Friday before if it was on the weekend. Being attractive, on the track team, and rich meant that he received a lot of carnations.

He did not appreciate it.

He couldn’t exactly take them home because his father would pitch a fit, but he knew better than to chuck them while at school in case word got around and he hurt some poor boy or girl’s heart. Not that he was interested in anyone, but he wasn’t actually the asshole everyone thought he was. He wasn’t even entirely sure why everyone thought he was an asshole; it was probably the combination of being wealthy and the fact that he wasn’t very socialized. Armitage was not easy to befriend but what few friends he had knew that he was actually quite considerate and generous. Thus he would give his carnations to his friend Ben so he could brag about having the most at the end of the day.

In three years he never purchased one and hadn’t planned on it in his final year.

There was a girl in a lot of his classes. Aneirin. He wouldn’t admit it but he first chose her for his partner when he couldn’t pair up with Ben or Phasma purely because she had a weird name like him. Just a weird coincidence, nothing more. Then he would choose her because he learned that she was quiet and actually did her work. There was no flirting, no acting dumb, no _actually_ being dumb, and no making him do the work because he did it better. Just a normal girl who was easy to get along with because there was nothing to complain about. Armitage, his social status making it second nature, could tell that her family didn’t make much money but the first day back from winter break she would proudly sport a brand new shirt as if it was the most expensive thing she got for Christmas. He would have felt sorry for her if she didn’t seem to be genuinely happy.

The Hux heir bounced around the music groups as a piano accompaniment and every third class he was with the band where he was able to memorize the back of her head as she sat front and centre to play the oboe. He found it strangely fitting that someone so quiet and meek played an instrument with bold solos and powerful parts. Once after a concert she had come up to him, they had locked eyes, but another girl came up much more quickly and started speaking to him. Discouraged, Aneirin went to the music room to clean her instrument and find her father to go home.

Without really talking, Armitage felt as if he’d found a kindred spirit in her. He got the nagging feeling that she was always apologizing for her existence. He knew what that was like, even if he kept getting people’s phone numbers, felt eyes on the back of his head, and kept having girls not-so-subtly try to touch him. The ginger couldn’t quite figure out how to thank Aneirin for not doing any of that without it being taken the wrong way.

It had almost slipped his mind that it was Valentine’s Day. When one of the other students showed up with the dreaded flowers he heaved a sigh and accepted his graciously. Twenty. He supposed people were putting it all out there since he would be gone the next year. His stomach didn’t like that he would have to carry them around for the rest of the day.

In Calculus, a class where Ben and Phas were in another section, he sat in his usual spot. Being tall he had to either sit in the back or to the side; on the first day he’d chosen to sit to the very left of the board, hoping there would be only enough students that no one would need to sit behind him. Somehow Aneirin had ended up with a choice of sitting in the very back or the spot directly behind the tallest person in the class. She graciously admitted defeat and sat behind him without bothering to ask if he’d move. For the most part, it was okay, save for when the teacher wrote to the very left or to the far right. After a few classes, Armitage offered to switch seats because in their English class he would notice her rubbing and stretching her neck.

So when she sat down he couldn’t help note that for the fourth year in a row she didn’t have a flower proudly sticking out of her bag or laid across her desk like all of the other girls. He’d never seen her receive kisses in the hallways or talk about anyone special; if she had ever had a boyfriend or whichever she preferred then they had been a closely guarded secret. When she walked up to take her seat she saw his hated collection of unwanted affection and didn’t bother giving him her customary good morning smile. He found he missed it. As they worked together she was quieter than usual, which also bothered him. 

So when lunch came around he marched up to the table where students could, at the last minute, buy a carnation. Dopheld was manning it, which was a relief; the freshman representative was also on the track team and had managed to get into the symphonic band for French horn, so the two were fairly acquainted. “I’m sorry, we don’t have anymore.”

Armitage made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat, then he looked at the bouquet poking out of his bag, picked the freshest and least damaged one, removed the tag he hadn’t bothered reading, and placed it neatly on the table. When the meek young boy opened his mouth the redhead opened his wallet and put down more money than was asked. A piece of paper and envelope were produced, he carefully tried to make his handwriting unrecognizable, it almost looked typed, and that was that. Thankfully they didn’t have the same lunch period, but maybe he wouldn’t have cared if she saw. Besides, twenty people, probably more, would have just as likely thought it was for them.

English came and the last minute carnations were distributed. Inwardly Armitage smiled, knowing at least one was for the blonde a few seats forward and to the left, but his heart hurt at how utterly shocked she looked. Was it that hard to believe someone might want to send her a flower? She didn’t have the chance to read the card as class started and she carefully stuck it in her bag.

Starting in junior year he was allowed to drive to school and as a senior, he got to leave the parking lot first. Today, however, he was waylaid by Ben as he tried and completely failed to explain the new improvements he planned for his motorcycle. Thus he was stuck waiting at the back of a very long line to leave, but eventually, he was free for a Friday afternoon.

Not for very long, it seemed. 

Never once had he seen her walking home. She had gotten quite far in the time it’d taken him to leave school. It was a cold February day and he knew the coat she wore was a little too thin. As he passed she looked absolutely miserable. So at the first chance he got, he pulled over and waited for her. When she got near his car he opened his window and poked out his head, causing her to jump back and give a scared cry. “I’m sorry, it’s just me.”

“What are you doing, Armitage?” She approached, sniffling back a nose runny from the cold.

“I thought I would see if you needed a ride home. It’s very cold. Where are you going?”

Aneirin looked at her feet. “Finndale.”

He had to think about that one but when he was done his mouth hung open in shock. “That’s a long way! Even if you weren’t walking. That’s not even this district.”

“Our school isn’t that good, not a lotta money,” she mumbled into her scarf. He’d embarrassed her. He felt bad again.  
“Do you always walk home?”

“No, my dad works around town so he drops me off and usually picks me up.”

“Well then,” Armitage smiled at her, hoping to put her at ease, “I redouble my offer to give you a ride.”

“I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Please, it’s too cold to be walking that far.” He knew better than to add in that coat. He rolled up the window when she finally came around the passenger’s side. Aneirin looked like she was afraid to even touch anything in his car. It wasn’t even that nice, it was his dad’s old car. “Shame your father couldn’t pick you up today.”

“He has a date.” She didn’t seem thrilled.

“Oh. Are your parents divorced?” Armitage should have known better than to ask about her personal life.

“No, my mom died.” She turned to look out her window. 

He bit his lip, chastising himself. “I’m really sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

The silence lasted as long as it took a streetlight to cycle. “Do you know who your secret admirer is?”

“What?”

“The flower. I saw you get it in English.”

“Oh,” Aneirin fiddled with her bag, “I completely forgot.”

He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, it wasn’t a big deal.

The crying didn’t help. “What’s wrong? What does it say?”

“‘You are a very talented and kind person, the world is a better place with you in it.’” She sniffled. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

The last few words he wasn’t able to quite make out due to her devolving into sobs but he was capable of extrapolating. “Oh, don’t be sad, that’s really sweet. Here” he stuck out his right hand “please don’t cry anymore.”

Aneirin took his hand and he squeezed it as she dried her tears with a sweater sleeve. By the time she’d calmed down, they were near her house. Here the road wasn’t even paved. Reluctantly, he let her hand go. “Thank you for the ride.”

“You’re welcome. I can’t believe you were going to walk all this way.” He looked at her home. It was small, only one floor above ground, and he could see where a lot of repairs were made. “Do you want me to stay until your father comes back?”

“Oh, that could be late. I don’t want you to waste your day here. Besides, I’m sure you have plans.” She gave his bag a glance.

“I don’t. But if my offer makes you uncomfortable, I apologize. I just didn’t like the idea of you staying all the way out here by yourself.”

“That’s sweet of you.” She hesitated with her hand on the handle. “We could… do homework for a bit?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

When they got out he was able to hear two dogs barking from inside. Armitage didn’t really like dogs, feared them really because his father kept hunting hounds and always threatened to sic them on him when he was smaller. What was fear was read as second thoughts, which was not far off, just the reasoning was wrong. “I’m sorry, I’m sure it’s nothing like what you’re used to.”

“What? No, I don’t mind.” Upon entering the house he noticed it was a little cold, even for him. They were greeted by two greyhounds who were giving him the most pathetic doe-eyed stares. These weren’t the beasts he expected. “Oh.”

“This is Barry” she patted the one with red brindle colouring before pointing to the blonde one “and Gordon.”

“Ah.” The blonde one was giving him a very intense look until he caved and rubbed its head. It whimpered happily. “Two Flashes.”

“Most people don’t get that.” Aneirin’s smile had been hard to contain. Not many people knew what Armitage was really like, so they didn’t know he was a bit of a geek, they were expecting an uptight prep.

He followed her around as she put the two dogs into little coats to keep them warm and boots to protect their paws from the snow that still covered her shady yard. There was actually quite a bit of yard, but it was mostly tall trees and a garden’s outline could be seen under the layer of white. They stood and watched as the two dogs raced and played together, excited to be let out. Armitage noticed that there was something built out away from the house that the dogs were playing with. “I wouldn’t expect you to have greyhounds, let alone ones who run agility courses.”

“Mister Crath rescues greyhounds. My dad met him when we were looking for our next dog. My dad’s a weak sap; one got him a smile, the other got him a number.” The girl dramatically rolled her eyes and clouds of air puffed out of her mouth when she laughed.

“Oh, so your father’s on a date with a man.” The look she was giving him dared him to make something of it. “I apologize, I was only thinking aloud.” Feeling some indescribable urge to explain, he added, “I like both, as well.”

“Really? Never seen you dating anyone.” She turned her attention back to her energetic pets.

“I could say the same.” There was the silence that came when two people realized they implied that they noticed these sorts of things in the other person. They filtered back into the house, which was really much too cold, it must have been only in the low 60s, and he helped her de-clothe the canines. Gordon insisted on sniffing his face no matter where it was and tried to give him a kiss. “Sorry, they’re very affectionate.”

“It’s quite alright. I’m not used to nice dogs.” They went into the kitchen where she started up a pellet stove. In the front room, there had been a pile of blankets on dog beds, presumably where they curled up when the owners didn’t feel comfortable leaving a fire going unattended. Now they were all crowded around it to warm up.

“You’ve never met a nice dog?” Her face was concerned and sad.

“It’s nothing,” he said quickly. She was smart enough not to press him. They made some tea, she was embarrassed it wasn’t ‘the good kind’ but he was gracious anyway. Sitting around the coffee table in the front room with the couches, they wrapped themselves up in blankets and started their work, occasionally talking about problems that were a little more difficult than others. 

One could only work for so long and eventually, they fell into silence. Barry stuck his head in Armitage’s lap and received a thoughtful petting. “I never knew my mother.”

It was something very personal to say, but somehow, for once, he felt completely comfortable. There was no Brendol Hux, no one who would snitch to his father that Armitage could feel anything, and no bad memories hanging about like ghosts. Aneirin held his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t even know if she’s dead. I think she is. But she wasn’t my father’s wife.” He couldn’t look up but he was eternally grateful that she was still holding his hand. “If I had gotten to live with her, you wouldn’t have been so embarrassed to have me over.”

“I don’t mean to be. It’s only…”

“I’m not as stuck up as everyone thinks.”

“I know. If you were stuck up you wouldn’t talk to me as much as you do.” She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. “Your dad sounds mean.”

“He is.” Armitage’s heart felt warm watching the greyhound drift to sleep, so relaxed to be with the redhead. Everything was so comfortable. Cosy. Close. Accepting. “What’s yours like?”

“He’s really nice, has a big heart. People expect him to be mean but he’s only mean when other people get out of line. In the movies, he’s the guy in the corner trying to be quiet and at the first sign of trouble he breaks it up. Met my mom at a party, this guy kept hounding her. When my dad tells you to get lost, you really get lost.” She laughed like this was the most natural thing in the world. “I bet your mom is alive somewhere and loves you very much. Everyone needs someone to love them. Except I guess serial killers and such.”

Armitage had been on the verge of tears but instead, a fit of laughter bubbled up from his chest. It got the interest of the dogs, who started licking his free hand and one of his cheeks. He didn’t mind as much as he thought he would.  
“I’m sure you want to go home. Well, not actually, but I’m sure you’re hungry. I don’t really have much to make you.”

“I’ll order us something. I don’t want you to be alone all night in the middle of nowhere. There could be serial killers.” He managed to free himself from the canine lovefest to get out his phone and wallet.

“No, really, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” he insisted. Aneirin dug into her bag and produced a rather well-worn leather wallet. Armitage put a hand over it. “You don’t need to give me anything.”

“But-” He could see this wasn’t going to be easy.

“Give me a dollar and we’ll call it even.”

It took her some time to come to terms with it but she nodded and handed him a single bill. “Now, have you ever had Thai food?”

When pressed, Armitage would have never said he had a date on Valentine’s Day, but that was exactly what it was. No ‘just friends’ or ‘we don’t like each other that way’ bull hockey. Just two teenagers sitting together eating take-out and watching Star Trek because the cobbled-together collection of secondhand discs was the first thing he saw on her shelf. When he noticed it was dark outside he checked his watch. “You really don’t have to stay.”

“I want to.”

“Won’t your dad be mad?” He found her hand after some searching under the blankets.

“He’s gone for the weekend, no one will miss me.” In response, she cuddled up to him, which had probably taken hours of building up the courage. “Besides, you’re easy to spend time with.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Aneirin looked up at him and he could almost see the gears of her mind turning behind her eyes. “I want to ask you something dumb.”

 _She wants to kiss me._ “Okay.”  
“Did you send me that flower?” She had actually managed to catch him off-guard. He’d almost forgotten it, even though it was sitting in a glass of water to keep from wilting too quickly.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to cheer you up, I didn’t like seeing you so sad.” He felt her squeeze his hand and she cleared her throat.

“Can I… kiss you?” _There it is._

“Yes.”

It was quick and shy, Armitage barely registered anything at all, but he knew she had because his nose felt her soft cheek. When he opened his eyes again she was scarlet and staring down at the blankets between them. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” It was his turn to lean in, pressed his lips against hers with a little more force, and waited for a few heartbeats before moving away. “I have really enjoyed today with you. Thank you.”

She mumbled something that was approximately ‘you’re welcome,’ or at least he assumed that was what she tried to say. He squeezed her hand. Then the tears started. “Oh, no, what did I do?”

“N-Nothing.” Aneirin sucked in her breaths, trying to swallow her crying.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. Do you want a hug?” She nodded vigorously and it took some figuring out to move enough blanket to free his arms. He didn’t comfort very often, at all really, but he knew people liked to be held when they were sad. Eventually, tears dried up and they found it more comfortable to lie down on the couch, his arm underneath a shared pillow. “Look at that, perfect fit.”

Armitage prayed to every god in existence that his body wouldn’t betray him and make this situation difficult. It ultimately didn’t matter because once he realized that she’d fallen asleep, back against his chest, he resigned himself to sleeping there for the night.

He was a light sleeper, it was a defence mechanism. This meant that when the front door opened he was wide awake, but the weight on his arm wasn’t budging. The dogs got up from their beds, their paws tapping on the floor, and a lamp flicked on. Armitage’s blood ran cold.

“‘M surry, did’n mean to wake yuh,” the talking red-furred bear slurred behind his beard. The young man couldn’t do anything about it, couldn’t talk, couldn’t move. He just watched as the man extricated the sleeping girl from his arms like she was a feather and disappeared, presumably putting her in her own bed. By the time the man came back, Armitage had found the ability to sit up and was trying to put his shoes back on. “No, boy, git back ta sleep. Stay fer breakfast.”

The smaller redhead hadn’t had the chance to even get one shoe on, so the larger one, who smelled like a mix of Scotch, expensive cologne, and tobacco smoke, gently pushed him to lie back down and tucked the blanket back around him. He didn’t have much choice as another two were thrown over him, his toes assuredly covered, and his head was given a reassuring pat-pat before Mister Pritchard filled the pellet stove again and found his way to his own bed. Barry stuck his face into Armitage’s, gave his cheek a few licks, and went to his bed where he stared at the young man until he couldn’t stay awake anymore. Eventually, adrenaline wore off and the Hux heir got comfortable to go back to sleep.

In the morning he woke up to the smell of bacon and waffles. It took a few moments for him to remember where he was, but when he did he automatically relaxed. Gordon greeted him with more dog kisses until Armitage untangled himself from the blankets. Desperately he went to the bathroom before someone could start a conversation, did his business as quickly as possible, and washed his face, combing his hair with his fingers to be a little more presentable. When he stepped into the kitchen he noticed that it was only Mister Pritchard, which wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for. “Good morning, sir.”

“‘Sir,’” the man repeated with some glee, “I like the sound of that.”

Armitage shook his hand before sitting down. A plate of waffles was put in front of him. He had to get something out of the way. “Just so you know, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay. Thank you for keeping her company.”

“I can see where she gets her personality from.” The man tried to be quiet as he laughed. 

When Armitage had woken up the day before it never occurred to him that he might spend Valentine’s with a girl and her dogs out in the sticks. Or that he would sleep over and have breakfast with her father who could break his father over one knee.


End file.
